Trust, Truth, Fear, and Freedom
by JackieStarSister
Summary: Noatak adopts Korra, raises her in Republic City, and invites her to join the Equalists. As the revolution begins, her friendships with Asami, Mako, and Bolin make her question its goals, and strange dreams (resulting from Tonraq and Senna's prayers) lead her to discover truths she is not sure she wants to know. Cover art: "Amon and Korra" by adshardcore.
1. Preface

"Kin" by Carl Sandburg

Brother, I am fire  
Surging under the ocean floor.  
I shall never meet you, brother—  
Not for years, anyhow;  
Maybe thousands of years, brother.  
Then I will warm you,  
Hold you close, wrap you in circles,  
Use you and change you—  
Maybe thousands of years, brother.

* * *

Author's Notes

This is my first long _Legend of Korra_ story (my others are limited to poems, oneshots, and novellas), and the first to deviate from the canon. This story came to be in the same manner as "Finding What You Weren't Looking For": I read a fan fiction that inspired me to start writing my own story based on the main idea. I wrote a fanfic of a fanfic. In this case, the story was "dream of the lotus in bloom" by pulpofiction, and I was actually imagining what I hoped would happen in subsequent chapters. In both cases I ended up creating enough original material to start my own version of the trope. pulpofiction wrote in the present tense, so when I started this I did the same, and I've tried to keep it consistent throughout.

As a disclaimer, I acknowledge that I will be writing about complicated relationships regarding which I have no experience and limited knowledge. I am not a parent, I am not adopted, and I have no background in psychology. I am entering territory I've never explored before, so please forgive me if I write something that seems unrealistic for someone in that kind of situation. If you are a parent, adopted, or well versed in psychology, feel free to tell me in a review, and I may turn to you for advice. And to all my readers, if you think a main character is acting out-of-character, it is probably because their pasts and relationships have made them different from how they are in the show. Still, let me know if you think I have taken a character too far from his or her true self.

If you're looking for a romance (since I have written about that in my other works), this piece may disappoint you. There are some dating situations and strong feelings of affection, but they don't amount to much because they aren't the central focus of the story. Frankly, the characters will have more important things to deal with.

I would like to dedicate this story to all the victims (living or dead) of the Islamic State, the Lord's Resistance Army, and Boko Haram, especially keeping in mind all the children who have been kidnapped and forced to be soldiers, and their parents who wait and hope for their return. This story will be happier in many ways, but I hope it still makes both you and me reflect on the reality and pain of such tragedies. Please keep all victims of these groups in your prayers and thoughts.

Every chapter of this story is named after a song. If you do not know each song, I recommend looking them up so you understand how they correspond to the story. Music is a great source of inspiration for me and, like the quotes I include at the start of each chapter, sometimes expresses and articulates things better than I could.

I also cite pieces of artwork from DeviantArt that correspond to parts of my story or otherwise inspire me in its writing. I am sharing their titles with permission from their artists. These pieces can all be found in a collection on my DeviantArt account, under the same username as here.

I hope you enjoy this journey!


	2. Suddenly

_Published January 1, 2015. Updated January 17, 2015._

"Suddenly"

* * *

_When we talk about mortality we are talking about our children._

I just said that, but what does it mean?

All right, of course I can track it, of course you can track it, another way of acknowledging that our children are hostages to fortune, but when we talk about our children what are we saying? Are we saying what it meant to us to have them? What it meant to us not to have them? What it meant to let them go? Are we talking about the enigma of pledging ourselves to protect the unprotectable? About the whole puzzle of being a parent?

~ Joan Didion, _Blue Nights_

* * *

In the Water Tribes, no one with a reasonable sense of self-preservation goes outside during a blizzard. Even a waterbender can get lost in the distances between houses. So Tonraq and Senna have good reason to be startled when they hear someone bang on their door.

Thinking it might be someone who needs help, the two of them leave Korra in the bedroom and go together to the front door. Senna opens the door while Tonraq holds the lantern in the threshold. A man stands outside, and they can make out the white and indigo pattern of his robes.

"The White Lotus!" Senna's gasp is more excited than surprised.

"Are you Tonraq and Senna?" the man asks loudly over the wind's bellowing.

"Yes—come in, quickly." Tonraq answers. They step back and let the man enter their igloo. Senna closes the door securely against the cold wind.

"Welcome" she says, turning back to the Lotus.

"You chose an awful night to arrive," Tonraq remarks sympathetically.

"It's been a long journey," the man answers. "After coming this far, I didn't want to delay any longer."

"Is there no one else coming?"

"I was the only one that could be spared. Many claims have been made, in both of the Water Tribes. So far none have been fruitful."

Tonraq and Senna exchange glances that turn into smiles. "Then you should be happy to know your search has come to an end," Senna says, already looking quite satisfied.

"You seem quite confident," the Lotus says. "Why is that?"

"Mom? Who is it?" Korra enters from the bedroom. The Lotus stares at the slightly chubby four-year-old.

"What did you say your name was?" Tonraq asks him.

He straightens up and says, "I didn't. It's Lee."

"Korra, this is Lee. He's part of the White Lotus. You remember what we told you about them?"

Her eyes light up—they are pale blue, like the sky on a cloudless day. But instead of smiling, her expression becomes hard and ferocious. She strikes a pose that somewhat resembles a warrior's stance: legs apart, knees bent, clenched fist raised in the air. "I'm the Avatar! You gotta deal with it!" She leaps forward into the room, punching her fists, and small bursts of flame come out of them; then she stops her foot against the ground, and a low pedestal of earth rises; when she waves her hand, the melted snow dripping around the Lotus rises and floats in the air.

The man who calls himself Lee gapes at the child. "She can already do this much?" he says to the girl's parents.

"I can do a lot more!" Korra says, and starts to spin.

"That's not necessary," Lee says, causing her to stop with a pout. "What I mean is—more than her native element?"

"She's bent everything except for air," Senna says, "but I don't think there can be any doubt."

"Extraordinary. Most Avatars don't discover their range of abilities until after they've been told their identity. This is a highly unusual situation, even for the Avatar." Lee cups his chin in his hand, musing aloud. "This is going to complicate things … quite significantly."

"Why is that?" Tonraq asks, his brow furrowed at the man.

Lee is silent for a long moment, ostensibly collecting his thoughts, discerning how to explain. "If she can already tap into these physical abilities, it's possible she could tap into her spiritual abilities as well—entering the spirit world, for instance, or activating the Avatar State. Do you know what that means?"

"We know what the spirit world and the Avatar State are," Tonraq answers evenly. "But I'm not sure I follow your meaning."

"Bending is a liability for any child. If not trained and taught to control their ability, benders can cause damage to themselves and those around them. For someone who can bend _four_ elements, it's even more imperative that he or she achieves mastery over them. Not to mention, if she were to enter the Avatar State at such a young age—"

"Is that likely?" For the first time, Senna looks alarmed.

"It is only a theory, based on how far ahead she already is."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Tonraq asks.

"The White Lotus always planned to train the Avatar, as Avatar Aang asked them to do. But we will have to expedite that process." Lee gazes at the child, who is now sitting on the floor and playing with chunks of earth bent from the floor. Then he looks back at her parents. "For now, I think I ought to take her to meet the rest of the White Lotus."

"Take her? Take her where?" Senna demands.

"To an outpost—I can't tell you the location unless you agree that she may go. The old masters will convene and discuss what is to be done, but they will want proof of who she is. She'll have to bend for them as well."

"Let the old masters come here if they're so concerned," Tonraq says gruffly.

"We have members all over the world; they won't want to convene so far out. Surely you must understand, the Avatar's training is the world's priority."

"That's unacceptable," Tonraq says, getting angry now.

"She's our daughter," Senna pleads, gentle but insistent. "You can't confiscate her like a national treasure."

The Lotus smiles ever so slightly. "If anything she is an international treasure."

"You want to joke—about—" The dizziness comes suddenly, very hard, like the aftereffects of a blow to the head, but without the shocking impact of the blow itself. Both Senna and Tonraq fall to their knees, clutching their heads between their hands. It takes ten seconds for both of them to lose consciousness; but they hear most of what the man says.

"You must understand. Your child is going to do great things for the world. But she cannot do them here. You cannot help her realize her potential. But I can."

* * *

Tonraq wakes first, and the first thing he sees is his wife lying next to him, facedown on the floor. "Senna!" He pushes himself onto his hands and knees, and turns her over.

She does not seem to be visibly injured. She grunts when he shakes her awake, then blinks her eyes open, focusing. "What hap—_where's Korra?_"

"Korra!" Tonraq calls out her name, getting to his feet and looking into the bedroom.

They search for her, trying to remember—was she still in the room when they argued with the stranger? Did she hear them talking about her future? Did she hide? What happened after they blacked out? How, and why, did they black out?

When they have combed every inch of the igloo—including hiding spots under the beds and piles of furs—Tonraq opens the door to look outside. Now he knows why the intruder chose a foul-weathered night to come. They can see the light of other buildings, but any tracks that were left are gone.

"KORRAAAA!" He yells at the top of his lungs, and hopes that the wind can blow the sound to her. He circles their igloo but finds neither the man nor his child.

When he steps back inside, Senna is sobbing. "She's gone."

"No." Tonraq's hand is hard on her shoulder, but his voice is even harder. "We'll find her. We'll see her again. Come on—the healers will know who to talk to."

Holding hands, and still calling out their daughter's name, they trek through the snow to the home of another Avatar's family. Tonraq bangs on the door. "Kya! Open up! Open—"

Avatar Aang's middle-aged daughter answers, recognizes them, and immediately senses something is wrong. "What is it?"

"Our daughter's gone—"

"Stolen—"

"It was a man—"

"Disguised as a member of the White Lotus—"

"Please, help us."

Kya lets them in and calls for her mother, Katara. They do their best to calm Senna and Tonraq down enough to tell the story clearly. They are baffled by the sudden unconsciousness they describe, and look them over in the medicine room to see if they were hit or injected with anything, but the intruder left no discernible mark on either of them.

"You're sure you didn't feel anything?" Kya repeats. "Not even a pinch or a sting? Or trouble breathing?"

Husband and wife both shake their heads.

"Was he a bender?" Katara asks.

"He didn't say," Senna says gloomily.

Tonraq adds, "The fact that he got to our igloo in the storm made me think he might be a waterbender."

Katara makes a "Hm" sound, looking darkly pensive. "What are you thinking, Mom?" Kya asks.

"There's bloodbending." The other three gape as Katara explains solemnly, "Years ago, in Republic City, there was an incident where a bloodbender knocked out a room full of people, including Aang, Sokka, and Toph Beifong. I think he cut off the flow of blood to their brains, causing unconsciousness."

Tonraq stares at her. "I've heard of bloodbending, but I thought it could only be done under a full moon." Though the moon cannot be seen through the cloud cover, he knows it is only a quarter moon now.

"We once thought so too, until that incident proved us wrong. It takes a waterbender of nearly unheard-of power." But Katara shrugs and concludes, "It's just a theory."

"Well, however he did it," Kya says, moving on from the barely-believable possibility, "we need to organize a search. I'll go alert Sokka and the police." She turns back to Korra's parents. "If you have any pictures of Korra, they could help the search parties." And if they cannot locate Korra, they can reproduce her picture in the newspapers, so most people in the world will be able to recognize her if she is among them.

Katara makes more suggestions as the four of them walk to the young couple's house. "When Fire Lord Zuko needed to find someone specific, he hired a shirshu trainer."

"Right, that would work, because the South Pole is full of shirshus," Kya says, her sarcasm too annoyed to be humorous; she almost sounds like her uncle.

"There are still some in the Earth Kingdom. If you have any items with Korra's scent on it, they might be able to find her, whatever the distance between you."

"But hopefully we'll find her before they leave the Tribe," Kya assures the parents as they reach the igloo.

Before, Tonraq and Senna only looked around enough to search for Korra. But now they can see the place and their things, not just the empty space. Specifically, they see that most of Korra's possessions are gone―her toys, her coat, changes of clothes.

"He took everything of hers," Senna realizes, aghast.

"What about pictures?" Kya insists, grasping for any kind of lead.

Tonraq goes to the bookshelf and pulls out their single photograph album. Pictures are few and far between for their family, and they carefully preserve the few that they have in this book. The women gather around as Tonraq flips through the pages, revealing a portrait from his and Senna's wedding day. Next should be their first picture with Korra, taken just days after she was born. There should be subsequent photographs from special occasions, like the Glacier Spirits Festival, Korra's favorite holiday.

The pages that held the family portraits are now blank. Only the pictures of Senna and Tonraq remain.

"He took her—out of the picture," Senna chokes. Tonraq can barely comprehend her words, whether they make sense or not. He sees, though, that Korra has been erased. Except for their memories, it is as if she was never there in the first place.

* * *

Noatak has never blocked a child's chi; he is not even certain they have the same physical response as adults. But for this plan to work, the Avatar must not be able to bend. From now on, he must take care to wake before she does, and cut off her ability as frequently as possible, without her knowing.

So after he returns to his motorboat in the harbor, he sets the girl down and jabs her arms and legs at the right points. Her body twitches with each blow, but she does not stir. His bloodbending put her, as well as her parents, soundly to sleep. It took weeks of practicing on antarctic mammals to be able to induce unconsciousness so quickly and smoothly without harming t.

Tonight was the second time he ever bent the blood of a human being.

Noatak felt no hesitance then, and he will not feel guilt now. He will do what he must. This is not the only way he could go about things, but it is the best way he can think of, and now that he has chosen this path and come this far, there is no turning back.

He stows the girl's personal effects and his White Lotus robes in a small storage compartment—he'll destroy them later, he cannot leave them as evidence—and leaves her in a bundle of blankets set up like a nest on the floor. In the hours before dawn, he is able to drive the boat over a hundred miles from the Southern Water Tribe harbor. He knows the search parties will begin soon, and word will spread to the real White Lotus as well as the leaders of the world. The two of them will have to stay under the radar for the rest of their lives, but especially for these next several days and weeks. Getting a head start now is the first and most crucial step.

He keeps glancing backwards at her, though she remains sleeping. Perhaps he did too good a job knocking her out. But her vital signs were all normal, so he does not worry.

The sun is rising when Korra turns over. Noatak kills the engine and waits while she wakes up. It takes longer than he expects. Finally, though, she blinks her eyes open and realizes she is not home.

"Mama?" Her voice is high with alarm.

"It's alright," Noatak says, kneeling down next to her. "Remember me? I came to your house before you fell asleep."

Korra looks to him for an explanation. "Where are we? Where's Mama?"

She will not forget about them for quite some time. She will not like this transition. But then again, no orphaned or disowned child does.

Noatak chooses his words carefully and uses a gentle tone. "Your mama and daddy had to go somewhere. They asked me to take care of you."

The child's face scrunches up like she's prepared to cry, but first she asks, "When they come back?"

He waits a moment, looks directly into her blue eyes, and speaks slowly so she can understand. "They aren't coming back. They said I could be your new daddy. But don't be sad. If you're a good girl for me, I'll be a good dad for you, okay?"

"No! I want my mom and dad! I wanna go home!"

He reaches out, thinking to hug her and hold her until she is consoled, but Korra swats his hand away. She gets to her feet, glaring at him, and punches her arms forward, shouting, "Bring them back!" It takes her a few punches to realize that nothing is coming out of her fists. She stares at them, then flexes her fingers, shocked. "I can't bend." She turns her head wildly, then goes to the side of the boat—Noatak is quick to follow her—and moves her arms in an attempted waterbending move. "I can't bend!" she cries.

"I'm sorry, Korra. You must have been dreaming about bending."

"No, I did it! I could bend three elements! I'm the Avatar!"

He tries to look and sound sympathetic, even as he stays firm. "I don't think so."

Korra's lip quivers, and she starts to sob. "B-but they said I was the Avatar! They said I was special!"

What stupid, infatuated parents. People like them are the reason why benders grow up to be so selfish and arrogant, and why the Avatar has always been so self-righteous.

"Korra, bending doesn't make you any more or less special than anyone."

She doesn't believe him, so he lets her cry it out, waiting for her sobs to subside. But she only stops long enough to take a deep breath and start wailing with renewed strength.

"You don't need bending," Noatak insists, his patience waning.

"YES I DO!" she screams at him.

"Why do you _want_ to be a bender?"

She really looks at him then. "Bending's the coolest thing in the world! You can do anything with it! I've built castles with icebending and cooked with firebending and made toys out of earth. And you can fight with it!"

"Does it make you feel safe?"

"Sure. No one'd mess with the Avatar. If they did, I'd freeze 'em, or burn 'em, or bury—"

"That's _enough_!" His harsh tone actually shuts her up, if only for a moment. Before she can start crying again, he says, in a normal volume, "You don't need bending to feel safe. There are ways to defend yourself with out bending. And you don't need your old parents, either. I'm here for you. I'll be your dad."

"I don't want you! I want Dad and Mom!"

"You know … I don't have my parents either."

She folds her arms, unimpressed. "So? You're a grown-up."

"I mean I lost them when I was young." That gets her attention. Noatak continues, "I had a brother, too, but he's gone. I had to leave them because it wasn't a good home. And yours wasn't either, Korra. Your parents couldn't take care of you. But I can. I'm here for you. You and I can make a new home, together."

_Home_. It's a strange concept for both of them. Noatak has not had a real one since he left the North Pole—but even that place only felt like home during his early childhood.

He does not want to be like his father. He will not push her into a destiny she does not want. She will not be his soldier of revenge, or of his personal mission—unless, as he hopes, she _chooses_ to become that.

Noatak reaches out again, and touches Korra's hair. She flinches, but she does not push him away. It's a start.

He unpacks some food from the storage compartment next to the locked one. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"I have to keep steering for a while. I don't want you saying you're hungry later." He spreads out packages of fruit and fish and a few cups of instant noodles. But Korra folds her arms, glaring and pouting at the same time, and says, "'m not eating 'til you bring me home."

Insisting that she will never go home might provoke another tantrum, so Noatak shrugs indifferently and says, "We'll see how your stomach feels about that." He doubts her resolve will be very strong. On the other hand, he would rather not have her pass out from hunger or thirst. "Do you want something to drink, at least?"

She considers this, then says flatly, "Water."

He pours it into a cup and hands it to her. Korra looks intently at the water, almost glaring at it, and he knows she is trying to bend again. He almost feels bad for her, but not quite. He feels satisfied when she drinks the cup's contents.

He eats his own breakfast, drinks some energy-enhancing tea to keep himself awake for the rest of the journey, and then packs up the provisions. He pauses as he closes the compartment, and turns to look at her. "I need to ask you something important," he says.

"What?" Her voice is disinterested.

"Do you have a nickname?"

"No."

"Would you like a new name? You could choose one, or I could choose one for you."

She makes a face, then shakes her head. "I like Korra."

This could be a problem. People will be looking for a Water Tribe girl her age named Korra—not just in the weeks and months to come, but possibly for years. But perhaps he can think of a longer name for which Korra would be a plausible nickname.

He finds a child-sized life jacket on the shelf, and hands it to her. "As long as you're awake, you should put this on. We still have a long way to go over water. And no trying to look over the side."

She holds the life jacket uselessly—either she does not know what it is for, or she is not going to cooperate with anything he suggests. Noatak scowls and forces it over her head, even as she struggles and tries to hit his hands away. He is too strong for her. He tightens the jacket's straps, and forces her to sit again on the blankets. "No standing up, unless you want me to tie you down. Understand?" She looks angry and miserable, but she nods, the first sign of resignation. Then he returns to the front end of the boat, and checks the map and compass to make sure they are going in the correct direction, before restarting the engine and resuming the journey.

He keeps glancing back at her, but she does not stir, only tries to keep up the bad mood throughout the day. She periodically reasserts, in either a pleading moan or a demanding yelp, "I wanna go _home_."

"I think you'll like the place where we're going," he tells her after some time.

"Where is it?" Her voice is both curious and suspicious.

"It's a city—bigger than any in the Water Tribes."

"I don't like cities."

He does not know if this is true, or just another attempt to be contrary.

He hears her stomach growl around midday. "Are you sure you don't want some food?"

She does not answer. He decides to offer some again—he does not know much about children, but he doubts they can cope well with hunger. He leaves the package of fruit on the shelf, within her sight and reach, before returning to the wheel.

A short while later he hears the package being opened and the snapping and sucking of fruit being consumed. He wonders if this counts as their first compromise.

They stop at a port town, which amazes and confuses Korra. "This doesn't look like a city."

"This isn't where we're going to live. We're just here to buy fuel."

He jumps into the shallow water and pushes the motorboat onto the shore. He reaches out to lift Korra over, but she scuttles to the opposite side. "I'm not going."

"Don't make me drag you." What can convince her to come without fighting? "Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

Her stubborn frown fades, as she becomes uncertain. Noatak smiles and holds out his arms. "Come on."

Reluctantly she crosses over and lets him pick her up and set her down. She gasps when her bare feet land on the warm sand. "What is this?"

"It's sand—tiny little rocks."

"Rocks? Rocks are earth!"

"That's right."

She stomps her bare feet against the sand, but the landscape does not change. Her shoulders slump in disappointment. She must not know how rare sandbending is, if she thought she could do it. "Why can't I bend?" she asks, her frustration renewed.

"Some people just can't."

"But I could! I know I did!"

"I'm sure it must have been a dream." He spots a fish seller at a booth, and points it out. "Do you want to try a seaweed wrap?"

She turns it down. Novelties distract her, but she still wants to hold out on her anger. At least she is not crying or frightened. He would rather put up with this sullenness.

Noatak is relieved to learn that the child can go the bathroom without assistance—potty training is not something he has the patience for. What is more difficult is steering Korra away from the other boatmen, who she tries to ask for passage to the South Pole. He scoops her up and brings her back to the boat before they can start to take her seriously. Fortunately, no one gives either of them suspicious looks. Perhaps word of the Avatar's disappearance has not spread far yet.

It is almost evening when they come in sight of the United Republic capital. "We're almost there," Noatak says over his shoulder. "If you look now, you can see the city."

She gets to her feet and sees the same things he does: the mountains, the buildings, the memorial, the island, the bridges. "Whoa."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He does not truly find it so, but he wants to make it seem appealing to her.

"Who's that?" She points to the giant green-gray statue guarding the bay.

Noatak hides his uneasiness behind a casual answer. "A man named Aang."

"What did he do?"

"Well, the statue is here because he helped build this city."

Korra tilts her head up to study Aang's green face as they pass below the statue. Noatak hopes, almost prays, that she cannot feel or know anything intuitively about the old Avatar.

He steers the boat to the docks, and pays the fee to leave it there. He was planning to sell it, but maybe it would be good to keep, in case they ever need to leave the city quickly. He stands on the dock and holds out his arms to help Korra over the side. "Come on."

Once again, she stands defiant, trying to stare him down.

"Please … I know it's a big place, and all of this is a big change … but it can be a good one, if you want. You have to give it a chance. And give _me_ a chance."

Maybe this talk of change and acceptance is going over her head, because she does not budge.

Noatak makes a noise between a sigh and a scowl. "Look, kid, your options are either stay out here and sleep on the boat in the cold, or come see what the city is like. There's an apartment waiting for us. You'll _like_ it."

She folds her arms over the life jacket and sits down. "I'll stay here."

"I was joking. They won't let you sleep in a boat."

"Why not?"

"You could freeze, or someone could—" Can she even grasp the concept of stranger danger? How can he explain it when he is still a stranger to her? If anything she is being smart by not going along with what he says.

He has only one good reason for trying to negotiate with her: to avoid making a scene that others might notice and report.

He gets in the boat again, and she moves to avoid him, but he does not go toward her. He picks up the blankets and carries them as he steps back onto the pier. "I hope it's not too cold tonight. And there's no food left, so you'll have to find some. And I don't know where the nearest bathroom is. Well, I guess I won't see you again, so good bye, and good luck."

He starts to walk away, slowly, leisurely folding the blankets. He smiles, waiting, sure she will call out—

There is a sound like metal being kicked, and then a yelp, a wooden thud, and a splash.

Noatak pivots, biting back the girl's name, swears, and runs down the pier, dropping the blankets. Korra bobs up in the narrow space between the boat and the pier; she is conscious but choking on the water. The life jacket is so bulky she can barely move, but it keeps her on the surface while Noatak reaches down and pulls her up. He brings her to her knees so she can cough and spit out the water.

"What did you do that for?"

"I didn't mean to fall," she says crossly. "I was trying to climb over like you did."

"Were you going to follow me?"

"No. I just wanted to get off."

Did she expect to find her way around the city by herself? Noatak shakes his head, removes the life jacket—thank the spirits for safety measures, he will have to remember those from now on—and wraps the dry blanket around her before picking her up. She does not fight him.

Korra stares at the scenes that they pass—the streets, cars, trolleys, rickshaws, motorcycles, pedestrians, buildings, street lamps. She may have seen such things in the urban areas of the Southern Water Tribe, but she has never seen them in such overwhelming numbers. Everything seems brown or gray, dark or nondescript colors, except for some brighter signs and lights.

Rather than take the trolley, where people would be more likely to see and ask about the wet toddler, Noatak walks to the apartment building on foot, fighting his exhaustion. Another hour or two and he'll be able to rest.

He sets Korra down on the sidewalk in front of the building. "This is where we're going to live."

She steps back and gapes up at the building, which must be like a skyscraper to a small rural child. "This is our house?"

"Not exactly. Other people live here, but we'll have an apartment with a few rooms just for us."

Everything is ready when they check in with the porter. Noatak's close associate, who he hopes to make his lieutenant, prepared their paperwork and made the living arrangements. He finds the package with their keys and paperwork. He has decided to put the name _Anakorra_ on her papers, and tell people that Korra is her nickname.

Their apartment is only a little bigger than her old igloo. There is a kitchen area with a table and an icebox, a living area with a sofa and a radio, two small bedrooms, and a bathroom. Korra takes it in wordlessly, with a mixture of awe and apprehension. Noatak has not lived here before, so there are no personal touches to be seen. It must seem barren to her.

"Want to see the roof? Anyone can go up there."

"Sure!"

Korra is quick on the stairs, especially for someone who has rarely, if ever, used stairs. They finally go through the door onto the roof. Noatak watches as Korra runs around, exploring every corner. The roof's perimeter is surrounded by a low wall; he lifts her up so she can look over it.

Korra gasps at the view. "We're so high!"

"Do you like it?"

It is then that he sees her smile for the first time. "Yeah. It's cool."

They eat the last of his packed food on the roof. Tomorrow they will go shopping for proper groceries, and new clothes for her. For tonight, he is eager to put her to bed, so he can finally catch up on sleep after nearly thirty-six hours awake. He is sure they both need baths, but he decides to put them off until tomorrow.

He makes Korra go to the bathroom before she climbs into her bed. She asks that the shades be left open, so she can see the moon and stars.

"Is there anything else you need? Water? Another blanket?"

She considers him. "Can you sing to me?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Will you go to sleep if I do?"

"Yes."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes."

He sits on the edge of the bed. "Very well. What … songs do you like?"

"Mama sings 'Leaves from the Vine.'"

The title stirs something in his memory; he thinks he remembers it, an old victory song from the time of the Hundred Year War. "I don't remember the words."

"_Leaves from the vine, falling so slow …_"

The words come back as she says them, and he tries to sing along, but she smacks his hand and scolds, "No, _I'll_ sing it, then you!" Feisty, demanding child. He waits, and when she has finished she looks at him expectantly.

"Can't you sing yourself to sleep?"

"You do it!"

Noatak obliges, and does not think his voice is well suited for singing, but Korra closes her eyes and relaxes into her pillow. When he comes to the end, she says without opening her eyes, "Again." He stretches out the tempo, and by the end of the third encore she is asleep, or close to it.

He thinks he knows what is supposed to come next—though, truthfully, he cannot remember the last time he gave or received a kiss. It must have been to or from his mother, before he left home.

He leans over and presses his lips to her cheek for a second, maybe two, before pulling away. It is supposed to be a sign of love and affection. He does not feel that for her, but in order for this living arrangement to work, he knows he will have to at least act as though he does; then, perhaps, one day he will.

The last thing Noatak does before retiring is set up the telephone and call one of his associates, who will in turn contact a few others. He tells them where to find the boat, and instructs them to destroy the contents of the storage compartment. Not throw away, not bury or dump in the ocean, but destroy. For example, burning the robes, pictures, toys, and other items would suffice nicely.

* * *

**Music:** "Suddenly" from the 2012 film version of _Les Misérables_. "Leaves from the Vine" also correlates to some plot and character development over the course of this narrative.


	3. Sowing Tears

_Chapter originally published February 17, 2015  
Re-posted with more material on April 28, 2015_

"Sowing Tears"

* * *

"When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world. So you also are now in anguish. But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you." ~ John 16:21-22

* * *

Living with a companion—particularly one he has to care for—changes Noatak's outlook on day-to-day life. Traveling alone, he usually ate whenever he was hungry, and slept at night or whenever he found a comfortable place to rest. With Korra, he feels he ought to establish mealtimes and bedtimes. Since she cannot judge how much food and sleep is enough, he makes the effort to ensure she gets enough.

He has to ask her how much she is able to do. He asks her often, "Can you do this, or do you need my help?" Sometimes, to his annoyance, she says she can do something independently, only to retract her words and beg him for assistance.

Stepping outside the apartment is exciting; stepping outside their building is an adventure. He has to take Korra with him to buy groceries and, on the first day, clothes. Everything about the city amazes her. Of course, she is not only young, she has never left the south pole until now. Seeing her marvel at ordinary plants in the park reminds Noatak of his first years away from the home of his childhood. It is good for both of them that she is, so far, enchanted by the city. But it will not take long for her to learn that it has its dark side.

He gets to know her through their shopping trips. He grins when she tells him that she prefers pants to dresses. She is not particularly feminine, at least at this age. She also prefers blue and purple items, but he purchases some neutral tones that will let her blend in without hinting at her nationality. She is unfamiliar with most of the food, and asks him to identify everything.

Noatak buys her a doll, a simple handcrafted item, to be a comfort object as well as a toy. He thinks they are supposed to help children think about what parenting is like. But Korra does not treat the doll like a baby; she talks to it as if it were an equal.

He shows her the public library, and lets her peruse the children's section once a week. Korra pulls out books that have nice pictures, and unfortunately many of these are about characters finding creative uses for bending. Noatak tries to steer her toward alternatives that depict nonbenders. They borrow enough books to have him read a story every night.

He tries to show her how to do chores with him. They hang their laundry on clotheslines set up on the roof. He still wants to keep a low profile, so he tries to time that chore so that they do not run into their neighbors from other apartments in the building.

Noatak keeps a close watch on the newspaper articles, and listens to the news hour every morning and evening. The kidnapping of the little Southern Water Tribe girl is only one story among about a dozen, and he does not know whether the average citizen is taking the news to heart. After all, many people in the Water Tribes have claimed that they found the new Avatar. Korra was only one of many claimants.

Korra loves going on outings, but keeping her entertained _inside_ the apartment requires some thinking. She climbs on their few furniture items, wants to run up and down the stairwell. He shows her the radio, and she enjoys the jazz music that is so popular, but she is rarely content to sit still and listen. Instead she tries to dance to the swinging tempo.

Seeing how energetic she is, Noatak challenges her to exercise. "Do ten jumping jacks. Hm, I bet you can't do five more!"

She is glad to prove him wrong. But she also wants him to join in the fun. She runs around the main room calling, "Can't catch me!"

Of course he can catch her, he is bigger and faster, but he lets her run anyway. She turns the corner into the hallway between their rooms, but then looks back at him expectantly. "Come on, chase me!"

"But you said I couldn't catch you."

"You still have to chase me!"

"All right … you asked for it!"

She squeals as he starts after her, barely speedwalking. He lets her duck around furniture, and humors her by crawling under the table to follow her. Finally, he catches her and holds her fast, laughing in triumph. He lifts her up with enough momentum to throw her into the air, but he holds on to her, not letting go. It is the first time he has heard her laugh. That has to be a good sign—perhaps she is finally moving on.

Noatak did everything he could to make the transition smooth and free of trauma: he made sure she slept through the actual separation. Yet there is still something discontent in her—he cannot identify it.

She does not sleep soundly. She cries out from nightmares almost every night. Noatak wonders if he is part of those nightmares—does she see her as the one who caused such sudden change, or the one who saved her from it?

If he is still awake and she cries out repeatedly, he tries to wait it out; but then she wakes up and shouts for him—or, at any rate, for her father. "Daddy!" He goes to her and tries to soothe her. She lets him hug her, now, and tries to bury her face in his shirt or the crook of his neck. He tries to get her to talk about her nightmares, but she either cannot remember or does not want to discuss them.

He thinks he can make out the words "want Mom and Dad."

He rubs her back, and sifts his fingers through her hair. "I know. They chose me to take care of you, so you wouldn't be alone."

Many nights pass before Korra seems to truly accept his answer. "They're not coming?" she murmurs, just to clarify.

"No. But _I'm_ here for you, Korra. You may not see me as a father, but I'll act as if I were."

She pulls her head back to look him in the eye. "Are you gonna leave me with someone else?"

"No. I promise I won't leave you." To prove his point, Noatak stays with her until she is asleep.

She sometimes falls asleep on him while he is reading to her. He lies for some time afterwards, feeling her breathe on top of him.

He likes this, but he does not yet know if he likes her. He does not know how he feels about her. He is not sure if it is attachment. He does not know if it is love. But he does know that he likes not being alone anymore. He was always good at looking out for people. It is nice to have someone to look out for, on a personal level.

This child is all his, and he starts to like that fact.

* * *

Tonraq hates the resignation that he senses from their friends, neighbors, allies, Senna, and even himself. The days immediately following the kidnapping were hectic and horrible, but full of action and determination. Now they are simply waiting, and no longer with their day-to-day agitation mixed with hope.

The only thing they know with any certainty is that Korra is alive. If she had died, there would have been signs, of the kind Sages and other spiritual leaders watch for. This is also how people knew, long ago, that the Air Nomad Avatar had not died; and yet it took a century to find him.

The White Lotus appeal to each of the Nations' leaders to help in the search. Katara vouches for the authenticity of Tonraq and Senna's claim, that Korra is the Avatar, which is enough to convince Fire Lord Zuko to initiate a search in the Fire Nation. Unalaq agrees to use his expansive military to search the Water Tribes as well as the oceans and the coasts of the other nations. Tonraq knows his brother must be more motivated by politics than familial loyalty. They sent word, of course, when Korra was born, but Unalaq took no interest in his niece, until the news of her disappearance, and the purported reason behind it, reached the North.

About a month after the kidnapping, Chief Sokka and Master Katara invite Tonraq and Senna to have tea in the palace while Fire Lord Zuko is visiting. Tonraq first met him when he was the Prince of the Northern Water Tribe; now Zuko wants to offer his condolences and support to the Avatar's parents. Tonraq has felt a kind of kinship with him in the years since his banishment. Zuko, too, was once a disgraced prince banished by his father. But talking about his most recent failure is not something he wants to do, even over tea.

But Zuko surprises them with a story that proves they have another thing in common: they all lost an immediate family member and had to cope with not knowing her fate. While Tonraq lost his child, Zuko lost a parent.

"It is worse than mourning, isn't it?" the old firebender muses. "Death is final; mourning can be followed by healing. Not knowing a loved one's fate is like keeping a wound open, not giving it a chance to heal."

Tonraq nods in spite of himself. "Exactly."

"I don't doubt that Korra will turn up. But when she does, try not to hold any expectations."

"Had your mother changed very much, when you found her?"

"She had a new face, a new husband, and another child, a half-sister I didn't know I had." This begs an explanation, so Zuko indulges them with the full details of how he found his mother. The story temporarily distracts them, but it does not make them feel better about how much Korra may be changing.

"What more can we do?" Senna asks.

Zuko reflects for a moment—he has years of experience and much wisdom as a result. Finally he concludes softly, "Take care of your own needs, and those of the people who still depend on you."

Senna finds comfort in the company of others. She frequently visits Katara, an advocate of hope and healing. Over time she forms genuine friendships with the waterbenders who used to be just celebrities to the young couple.

Tonraq tries to be there for her for her as well, but he finds more freedom in solitude. He goes hunting or fishing by himself, more out of a desire to get away than out of real necessity. One less person in the family means one less portion of food to make.

He sometimes goes to the cliff where he used to show Korra the ocean. She loved to look at the sea, big and blue and beautiful, like her eyes, and just as powerful as her. Korra and the ocean were full of untapped mysteries, harboring the potential for something tremendous. He contemplates the horizon, which slowly changes as icebergs shift in the water.

There was so much they wanted to teach her. No—there _is_ so much they _want_ to teach her—they have to believe they will see her in the future. Tonraq still wants to show her how to sail and hunt and fish. Senna wants to show her how to cook, make clothing, and trade homemade materials for imported goods. Both of them could teach her waterbending.

One thing brings them closer after Korra was taken. They still do not know how it had happened, and struggled to convince others that they had not had a chance to defend themselves. In spite of this—or perhaps because of it—Senna insists that she needs to improve her waterbending. She received basic training as a child, but she was never interested in combat. Now, however, she is determined to learn how to defend herself and her loved ones.

So Tonraq begins training her, recalling what his father and old masters taught him in the North. At first it is difficult for either of them to waterbend well. Katara explains that they need to work through their tumultuous emotions and allow them to flow like water. It does not help that bending reminds them so much of Korra.

"Turn your grief into determination," Katara counsels. "Not to avenge what you lost, but to protect what you have."

It takes time, but Senna gradually improves, and the activity helps to bond her and Tonraq. It gives them something to do together, something to talk about, something to work for while they wait. And, surprisingly, it makes the days, weeks, and months go by more quickly.

* * *

There are bad days, such as when Korra throws tantrums. She argues and tries to negotiate about what she eats, how long she can play, how late she can stay up (like Noatak she is most energetic at night). She has a fiery temper, and if he did not block her chi each day, she would probably burst the water pipes, break the cement walls, and cover the apartment with scorch marks.

Noatak wonders if all children are this self-centered, or if it is a result of her parents' coddling their bender child. Whatever the reason, it is clear that Korra is not inclined toward discipline.

When she gets sick, and vomits on her clothes and bedsheets, he has to hide his disgust, clean up her mess, and try to nurse her back to health. When he catches it too, he doubts he can take care of the both of them. At times like that, he resents having to tend to her. Sometimes it feels like his entire day consists of setting things up for Korra and cleaning up after her.

Money starts to be a problem for the first time in his life. In the Water Tribe, they made most of their own goods, and traded for what they could not make. As a traveler, he was always able to do odd jobs to earn money. In uninhabited areas he knew how to hunt or gather food. Here, with Korra, he needs even more money for food, clothes, and rent, but he does not trust anyone else to take care of Korra so he can work.

School seems like a natural solution to keep Korra occupied and allow Noatak time to focus on his work. But the two of them have not separated since they started living together, and he does not know how she would cope with being alone among strangers. He also fears that someday she will lose her temper and reveal her bending, perhaps two or three types at once. He has to minimize the chances of anyone discovering her identity. To do that, he has to minimize the amount of time she spends with other people. Homeschooling seems most conducive to that aim.

So he tries to find jobs that will allow him to bring his daughter with him. He is more than qualified to teach martial arts, and that would be a good way to recruit Equalists, but he does not want to run the risk of having a student recognize him as Amon.

Noatak finds the solution at the library. Korra is content to play and look at picture-books in the children's room. He keeps an eye on her while he re-shelves books and scrolls. After his shift is done, they go home and do lessons.

He finds her attitude toward education contradictory and disconcerting: Korra loves learning, and wants to excel, but she is so full of energy she dislikes sitting at a desk and following a lesson. She would rather learn by doing than by listening.

Noatak remembers learning from his father and defending his brother's slow progress. He wants to be patient for her sake, but he makes it clear he will not tolerate a lack of effort.

"Why do I have to learn this stuff?" she grumbles, rolling a bamboo brush on their kitchen table. She would rather doodle freely with pencils than make complicated designs with ink.

One reason is so that if their home is ever investigated, the police or whatever officials come will know he has done his job as a guardian by providing her with an education. But Noatak gives a reason more conducive to her interests: "So you can explore more easily." She shoots him a skeptical look. "Just think, Korra: if you know how to read, you can read all the signs on the streets, symbols on the streetcar map, books in the library. You wouldn't need me to read to you."

"I like it when _you_ read." He is good at changing his voice to sound like different characters.

"I'm honored," he says with a smile, "but you can't depend on me to read every word you see."

It takes a few years, but she does learn to read, both calligraphy characters and the newfangled phonetic alphabet that corresponds with Morse Code. Sometimes he even enjoys teaching her. The way she grips a brush and visibly concentrates on getting the strokes right is endearing to watch.

Noatak shows her news articles, but warns her not to fully trust the media, since even nonbender reporters can be paid off to write biased stories. He tells her about the Beifongs who hoard valuable natural resources in Zaofu, a city so remote and fantastical it is nearly legendary. They champion metalbenders and leave nonbenders in the dust. He tells her about how the most violent Avatar, Kyoshi, established the Dai Li to keep the peasantry in line. Though the Earth Kingdom monarchs have been nonbenders for generations, they have always used this earthbender force to censor, oppress, and terrify the people of Ba Sing Se. He teaches her everything he has learned about the wars of the world, and the conclusion he came to long ago: all suffering ultimately stems from bending.

When Korra is seven, she notices the headline, _AIRBENDER GIRL BORN_. It is then that Noatak explains the genocide. At the library he shows her books about the Air Nomad culture. Half of the information comes from Avatar Aang himself, the other half from professional historians, anthropologists, and scholars. He explains, in no uncertain terms, how the Fire Nation killed the men, women, and children of the Air Nation. He does not gloss over the unpleasant details; she has to understand the world they live in if they are to have any chance of fixing it.

Korra is close to tears as she asks, "Why did they do that?"

He does not tell her the real reason, _To find the Avatar_. Instead he tells her part of the truth: "The Fire Lords wanted to do the same thing to the other nations. They almost wiped out the Southern Water Tribe. The war ended on the day Fire Lord Ozai tried to burn the entire Earth Kingdom."

"How did it end?"

Noatak deliberates for a moment, creasing and smoothing out a corner of the newspaper between his fingers. "You know that big statue in the bay? That's the man who ended the war."

"What's his name again?"

"Aang. He was the only airbender who survived the genocide. He is the grandfather of the new airbender." He refolds the newspaper, clicking his tongue. "That child will grow up spoiled, just like her father."

"Wha'd'you mean?"

"The airbenders think they're special because they have a famous ancestor and rare abilities. Their bending is nothing to be proud of."

"I think it's kind of cool," Korra says. "They could use gliders to fly."

"They could also suffocate people, if they had the stomach for it. It's a good thing few of them did."

She cannot tell if he is joking or not. "What if _I_ was a bender?"

Noatak has to steel himself against uneasiness. Is this still her child's imagination at work, or does she suspect—can she even remember, after three years? "You're not, so it's a moot question." Before she can ask, he defines, "That means there's no point in asking it."

"Would you hate me?"

That question startles him. "No, Korra. I wouldn't hate you."

"You'd still love me?"

He hesitates, because neither of them have mentioned love before, but he says, "Yes."

Moot or otherwise, he hopes his answer is true.

* * *

Two of Korra's birthdays have passed, each of them a bleak reminder of how much they lost. Senna wrote a letter to Korra on each of those days, and locked them in a box Tonraq carved from bone. When they are reunited, the box and letters will be gifts to make up for the celebrations they could not share. Of course it cannot make up for the separation, but Senna wants to give Korra evidence that they were thinking of her all along.

It becomes difficult to remember how it felt not to hurt when thinking of Korra. The pain has simply become a part of who they are.

When they experience something that would usually make them happy, they feel guilty for feeling that way when Korra might be unhappy. Normalcy seems like a sacrilege. Sometimes they can _almost_ take their minds off of their pain, but (to use Zuko's metaphor) the wound remains open.

Even Tonraq's hunting trips, originally an excuse to mourn in privacy, have become routine. He stares at the sea out of habit. He tries to remember exactly how Korra looked, but his mental pictures are becoming blurred.

When he returns home with a turtle-seal on his sled, he finds the house empty. Senna is not there.

Tonraq feels uneasy, though he knows his fear is somewhat irrational. Senna is not housebound while he is away. She could have gone to the town, or the coast, or the healing hut. And yet, they are both so protective of each other, she would surely tell him if she was planning to go out while he was away.

He cleans the carcass by himself, something they would normally do together. By the time he is washing his hands clean, Senna enters the house. "Tonraq!" She is startled to see him, and does not come to him right away. "I didn't think you'd be back by now."

"I finished early." He stands up to look at her. "Are you all right?" She bows her head, and does not answer. Her hesitation concerns him. "Where were you?"

"I went to see Katara and Kya."

This is not unusual. The previous Avatar's female relatives have been a great source of comfort to Senna. On the other hand, they are also the ones most sought after for healing and remedies. "Was this a social visit, or a practical errand?"

"In a way, both."

Tonraq goes to her, touches her shoulder. "Are you not well?" Up close now, he sees that the skin under her eyes is swollen, as though she has been crying or rubbing her eyes. "Senna, what's wrong?" Could she be seriously sick? He cannot lose her too, at this point she is his only source of happiness—if you can call it that, in this twilit existence.

"Something's happened."

That much is obvious. But maybe it has nothing to do with health. Maybe it is news, something the elders told her. Tonraq grasps her forearm. "Is is something to do with Korra?"

At that, the tears begin to fall. She shakes her head, then stops. "No … and yes."

"Senna, just say it."

She wipes her cheeks, manages to meet his eyes, just briefly, but long enough to say, "I'm pregnant."

She spoke those words to him once before. They once wanted a fairly large family. It was only when they found out Korra was the Avatar that they agreed they should wait, or perhaps not have any more children. Tonraq knew how toxic sibling rivalry could be, especially when there was a clear difference of status between siblings. Any sibling of the Avatar may grow jealous of her power and inevitable fame. And in any case, they knew parenting the Avatar would likely take up most of their time and energy, and they did not want to short-change any other children.

After Korra was taken, they did not speak of having other children, barely dared to consider it. But they did not close themselves off to the possibility; they did not take measures to prevent it. They turned to each other for comfort, and though it took some time after the heartbreak, they gave in to their mutual desire for each other. They still loved each other, partly because no one else understood the way they were suffering.

Senna seems to take Tonraq's silent immobility as horror. She turns away, looking ashamed, but he takes her by the shoulder. "Senna … I'm not up … oh, love …" There are no words; or rather, there are too many to say, too many to think. So he pulls her close against him, and holds her as she shakes and sobs. He understands, now, that there are so many reasons to cry, as many for joy as for sorrow. They should be joyful, and yet joy itself seems like a betrayal, like laughing at a funeral.

Korra should be there—he imagines Senna's stomach growing, and Korra feeling the swollen flesh, surprised to feel her brother or sister kick from inside. By now she would be—must be—big enough to hold an infant in her arms.

He guides her to their bed, a piece of furniture he built with his own hands. It is where they consummated their marriage, conceived and gave birth to Korra, spoke their hopes and fears regarding the future, mourned Korra's disappearance, and conceived this unborn child. He holds her close, kisses her hair even as his tears fall on it.

They have not cried together like this since the first few nights after the kidnapping. At that time they were gripped with fear and anxiety, leading search efforts in the day, waiting agitatedly for news at night. Tonraq tried to be strong for Senna, but he cried too, even when insisting that Korra would be found, that all would be well. Their tears almost abated as the absence became part of their lives, but then doubled when they realized it might be a long time before Korra returned, if indeed she did return.

After periods of silence, Senna voices the fears that she accumulated in his absence, asking questions for which they can only make apprehensive guesses.

"What will she think of us? Of … him or her?"

Any young child might feel rivalry toward a new sibling. But if—_when_—Korra learns that her parents had a child in her absence, will she think they meant to replace her? The idea is ridiculous to them: Korra is irreplaceable, not because of her Avatar identity, but because of who she is—bright, energetic, curious, tenacious, petulant, talented, proud. But, in all likelihood, she will probably not remember how much they cherished her during the first four years of her life.

Tonraq tries, as Senna must have tried, to imagine another child reaching each of the milestones Korra passed: learning to crawl, walk, talk, run, perhaps waterbend. Everything the child does will remind them of the first time Korra did it. But then—what if Korra is still gone when this new child surpasses the age she was when they lost her? That will be a journey into unknown territory.

"What will people think of us?"

It is a strange question, at least to him. "I always thought you didn't care what other people think." That was why he had trusted her enough to marry her: she did not care about the honor of his heritage, nor about the disgrace of his banishment. She loved him for all his strengths and weaknesses.

And yet, it is something to think about. One of the reasons Senna has grown so close to Avatar Aang's family is that they do not look down on the couple. The reason for Tonraq's banishment, though not a secret to begin with, was reinforced in people's minds when the news of Korra's disappearance spread. In spite of all his waterbending prowess, he had failed to protect his daughter, just as he failed to protect his tribe years before. After weeks of organizing search parties and giving meals and condolences, support from the community faded. Now Tonraq and Senna are known as the couple who claimed to be the Avatar's parents and lost their only child. Will people judge them for daring to move on, to forget about their firstborn enough to focus on the newborn? Will they expect yet another failure from the parents?

"Are you afraid?" Tonraq asks. Is that the real reason for her anxiety? Not just pain and longing, but the possibility of loving and losing again?

"Yes." Senna sniffs, shuddering as she catches her breath. "We failed, Tonraq." They have both thought this, but never dared to verbalize it until now. Their elder friends urged them not to blame themselves, but now almost two years' suppressed guilt is bubbling up. "We failed to protect her and now we're going to have another chance to fail."

"This time will be different. Senna, that—that man—" He wants to call him _monster_, but that would only upset Senna further. "He wanted the Avatar. He made sure she was the Avatar, remember? But this child will be normal. No one will want to hurt it or take it away from us."

"I could miscarry, or the birth could go badly—anything could happen. Can you really tell me you're not afraid?"

"I don't know yet." Maybe he will feel afraid after he has finished processing what this news means. "What did Katara say while you were there? She's always talking about hope." The old master grew up waiting for the return of the Avatar and the end of a war, and in her adulthood she lived in hope of having children and grandchildren to repopulate the Air Nomads.

"She said we have to choose between hope and fear. Or else find a balance between them. I think that may be the best way."

"That … sounds wise." Hoping for the best, but preparing themselves for the worst, will help them accept whatever comes to pass.

Senna looks around their bedroom, and then down at her body, pressing a hand against her flat stomach. Before long she will be able to feel their child enough enough to discern its movements. They both remember the anticipation they experienced during her pregnancy with Korra. "Tonraq … is it wrong for us to be … _happy_, about this? Part of me wants to be … even though it hurts, I still …" She breaks off, choking up again.

"Senna, look at me." She does, and Tonraq pauses to wipe away her tears. "This is a blessing. Korra may not be able to enjoy it now, but she will someday. And … just because she can't doesn't mean that we shouldn't. Do you understand me? Do you agree?" She nods affirmative to both questions. "I swear on whatever honor I have left, I will never let anyone hurt our family again." He puts one hand on her stomach, and holds her hand in the other. "We _will_ see Korra again." He said that to her the night Korra disappeared, and since then both of them have kept it, in their minds and on their lips, as a mantra when they came close to despair. Now Tonraq adds a second one:

"She _will_ meet this child."

* * *

Music: "Sowing Tears" by Nathan Tasker. I think he took the language and imagery from Psalm 126:5-6. He and his wife lost their first two children through miscarriages.


	4. It's Quiet Uptown

_Chapter originally published February 17, 2015  
Re-posted with more material on May 20, 2015_

"It's Quiet Uptown"

* * *

The family is the test of freedom, because the family is the only thing that the free man makes for himself and by himself. ~ G.K. Chesterton

* * *

It is necessary to keep Korra and himself mostly secluded, but Noatak does not keep her sheltered. Far from it: he wants and needs her to know what kind of world they live in.

He takes her with him to do volunteer work at the hospital and several soup kitchens. Sometimes, when they serve food, they take time to sit with the regulars and talk to them. Noatak asks them about their pasts, how they ended up where they are now. He does not shield Korra from the unpleasant details of the violence and damage benders inflict, often resulting in hospitalization. Sometimes victims arrive too late—the triads like to bribe police and even paramedics to ignore calls for help. And most of the people who have trouble paying their medical bills are nonbenders with lower incomes. Volunteer work is the best way to meet people who have been hurt by benders, which is essential for his recruitment and Korra's education.

He also enrolls her in self-defense classes, where she can interact with other children and make a few friends her own age. He stays to watch the first lesson, so she does not feel abandoned, but she becomes so involved with the forms and her classmates that she seems to forget about him. After that, he starts leaving her there, giving himself a few hours to himself each week. And, by a great stroke of luck—or perhaps destiny—one of the children in the class is the daughter of the recently widowed Hiroshi Sato.

Korra is not shy; in fact he has to admonish her to be polite and not too forward. Ironically, the classmate who shows her the most kindness is the most polite one, Asami Sato. Korra reports that the sifu usually assigns them as partners because they are neck and neck at the top of class.

After a few weeks, Noatak arrives to walk Korra home and is cornered by both of the girls. "Dad, can I play at Asami's house?"

The little heiress is usually chauffeured by a servant rather than her father. "Tell your father I'd like to meet him before Korra visits."

Hiroshi Sato himself comes to the next lesson, and the two single fathers talk while their daughters and other children work in the studio. For the first time, Noatak has someone with whom he can compare his parenting methods. He admits that Korra is adopted—there is no shame in that, as adoptions are becoming more and more common. He listens to Hiroshi's sob story and acts sympathetic when Hiroshi seems close to despair regarding Asami's safety. Then he slips Hiroshi a card with the time and location of the next Equalist meeting. He arranged it to take place during the girls' next class. "If you want to do more to keep her safe, this group would be glad to help."

Hiroshi is the first person to see him as both Noatak and Amon. He tries to alter his voice slightly when he speaks as Amon; the other regulars do not seem to notice, or at least refrain from commenting on it. Hiroshi pays rapt attention to the discourse, and willingly shares his experience, and offers whatever financial or technological resources will be necessary for their work.

"Do you know any other influential nonbenders who might be able to contribute?" Amon asks.

Hiroshi takes his time answering, cupping his bearded chin in his hand. "I suppose there's Varrick, of Varrick Industries—a self-made millionaire, like myself. He might join this cause if he thought he could profit from it. But as far as I know, he's never had any grievance against benders."

After a lengthy investigation and much deliberation, Amon decides against seeking Varrick's alliance, since the man seems to make investments based on monetary gain rather than moral or ethical implications. For this revolution, Amon needs true believers, not fair-weather fliers.

* * *

The first time Korra comes home from visiting the Sato estate, her hair is divided into three braids rather than her usual three ponytails. "Asami showed me how to braid her hair, and I'm going to grow my hair out so I can do more stuff with it."

The braids are still in her hair when she comes to Noatak's bed after midnight. She makes the customary excuse about a nightmare, but he sometimes wonders if she is really having them or just wants to be with him. He hopes it is the latter.

In the morning, he rises before her, blocks her chi, and goes to the bathroom. When he looks up in the mirror, he is startled to see five tiny braids sticking out from the rest of his hair.

His voice booms through the door: "Korra?" He hears her giggling, and he laughs too, because he looks absurd. "Alright, that's funny, but don't do it again, okay?"

"Let me see!"

Noatak opens the door, and stands for about a second before turning back to the mirror and undoing her mischief. "You need to brush your hair, too. It looks like a spider-rat's nest."

"Can you braid it?"

"Can't you braid your own hair?"

"It looks better when someone else does it."

He pauses. "My mother used to put her hair in braids that made loops on each side of her face … do you want me to do it for you?"

He wonders at the way Korra lights up at this suggestions. She brushes her hair rapidly and then hoists herself up to sit on the sink counter. She kicks her legs forward and swings them back to bang on the lower cabinet while Noatak attempts to make the two braids. "Stop that," he says. She is so strong she could damage the wood.

She stops, and then asks, "What was Grandma like?"

Hearing her use the honorific label makes him want to laugh again, but his throat tightens as though fighting pain.

"She was very kind. She …" He hardly ever thinks about her, but now he tries to remember, groping for details Korra will be able to understand. He does not know anything about the complexity of her personality; by the time he was old enough to critique it, he felt alienated from her by secrets. "She made excellent food. She showed us how to make clothes from the pelts of animals we caught. We didn't have books, so she told us stories instead."

She would have loved to be a grandmother. Korra may not be a blood relative, but she would love her … even as the idea occurs to him, he knows that returning and finding her is not an option. He does not even know if she is alive.

He sets Korra back on the floor, and then hugs her, longer and tighter than usual. He pulls back to kiss her cheek, but she holds up her hands. "No!" He is startled, and wonders if he has done something wrong, but she merely says, "Your face hurts in the morning!"

"My—" Of course. He has not shaved yet.

* * *

On one playdate, Asami teaches Korra how to play Pai Sho, and Korra in turn asks Noatak if they can buy a board. He holds out until her birthday, and before he presents it to her, he spends hours studying the rulebook so that he will be able to play without her having to teach him.

As it turns out, the way the Satos play the game is one of many different versions listed in the rulebook. So Korra ends up questioning his moves and pointing out alternatives. She is a bright child, and he does not just think that because she is his pupil.

He only wishes she required less of his time. The hours she spends at her class or the Sato mansion are precious to him, because he can meet with associates and potential allies in person. He even arranges for Korra to spend nights with the Satos so he can conduct meetings and give speeches to small assemblies. The rest of the time, he operates through phone calls and telegrams, and does paperwork at home.

There are many days when he has to deflect Korra's attention and boundless energy toward books or the radio, with the insistence that he has to do his own work in his room. When she is in a curious or impudent mood (which is often) she asks, "What are you working on?"

He gives a vague answer, like "Writing letters" or "Drawing".

But after touring the factory that Hiroshi Sato built, Korra addresses him, both casual and blunt. "Asami's dad is an inventor. What's your job, Dad?"

It is the first time she has asked him in so many words. "It's hard to explain," he says carefully. "It's all related to helping nonbenders in need." He feels this is telling the truth.

"You really like helping people, huh?"

"Yes, I do." There is a lot more to it, but at least she grasps that foundation of his ideology. "Don't you like it?"

She merely shrugs, as indifferent and self-centered as any nine-year-old.

* * *

An unusual encounter at the soup kitchen cements her own conviction in helping others. It could be called a double encounter, as it involves two patrons.

Korra notices them because they are children, about her age, and they come in by themselves, not with a parent or social worker. One of them wears a red scarf, which she finds strange in such warm weather, but maybe they're homeless and don't have a place to keep extra clothes. Korra doesn't have much anyway, but Noatak always buys her different clothes for summer and winter weather.

"I'm going to bring them seconds," Korra says, and hurries off before Noatak can question her. She gets a plate of pork buns and comes to the side of the boys' table, holding it out as an offering. "Want some more?"

Their eyes light up with green delight and amber surprise. "You bet!" the shorter, green-eyed one says.

Korra puts the plate down in front of them; then, without asking, she sits on the other side of the table, facing the two of them. "So, what's your story?"

"Huh?" The sound comes from the taller boy, the one with amber eyes and a red scarf.

"Um … why do you come here?"

The one with the scarf answers shortly, "We're hungry."

Korra feels flustered, a feeling she hates. Noatak makes talking to strangers look easy, and most adults open up to him quickly. She does not even know what questions to ask. "Where are your parents?"

The boys exchange glances as they chew and swallow their food. They don't say anything to each other, but they must communicate something she cannot understand because the elder boy says, "We lost them."

"Oh. … I'm sorry." Korra thinks of Asami, whose mother was killed by a firebender just a few years ago. That makes her wonder. "Was it an accident? Or did someone do something to them?"

The elder boy looks miffed at her forwardness. But the younger boy merely hesitates before admitting, "It was a firebender. We've been on our own ever since."

"Really? Where do you live?"

"None of your business," the taller boy says, standing up. "Come on, Bo." They stuff their pockets with the uneaten bread and dumplings.

Bo looks over his shoulder at Korra as they leave. "Thanks for the food!"

"You're welcome! Good luck!" she shouts after them. She is not sure what she wishes them luck in doing—surviving? Finding better lives? She feels more somber than sad. She is used to seeing poverty and hearing about misfortune, so it doesn't shock her, but seeing children suffer that way is disheartening. At least adults can work to earn money to feed themselves. What can kids do to take care of themselves?

Noatak watches the interaction from the longer table where he is serving food. When she carries the plates back to the kitchen he asks her, casually but gently, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you feel bad for them?"

Her first response was automatic; now it is heavy with honesty. "Yeah."

"It amazes me to think … you could have been like that." He shakes his head, continuing to wash, but Korra stares at him. She has always known that she was adopted, but she has never considered what her life would be like if Noatak had not adopted her. He has told her it was a closed adoption, so he knows nothing about her biological parents, and there is no way to contact them.

Korra is not sure what she hopes more, that they wanted her but died, or gave her up but are still alive. She tries not to care either way.

* * *

Korra is a bit of a daredevil, at least when she has the opportunity, away from Noatak's supervision. She tries driving Asami's moped, a Future Industries forklift, and other vehicles. When they swim in Asami's pool, or in the bay during warm weather, they contest who can whole their breath longer, until Noatak shouts at them to stop. She climbs trees higher than Noatak allows; in so doing, she sprains her ankle on one occasion and breaks her arm on another. She hates the debilitating casts, but not enough to keep her from trying new foolhardy feats. When Asami describes her parkour class, Korra tries making her own obstacle courses on the apartment rooftop, and sometimes runs through the streets without stopping just to test herself on using her environment. She climbs their building's fire escape in the most unorthodox ways, dangling off the iron stairs and railings, testing her strength as she pulls herself back up. Granted, she is strong, but her accumulation of injuries—apparent in the number of scrapes and scars on her limbs—is a cause for some concern. If she goes too far, she could reveal her bending under pressure, bending water as she tries not to drown, or bending earth as she falls to the ground.

Noatak has eased off somewhat on blocking her chi, but incidents like falling from a tree to the ground remind him that he has to stay vigilant. In the early mornings, he can block enough chi with one blow to keep her asleep while he blocks her limbs.

On the other hand, if she needed her bending to save her—or if she made any kind of stupid mistake—if she were to die—

He does not want to think about how that would affect him personally, but he has to consider what it would mean for the Equalists, and for the world. Each nation's religious leaders would see the signs, and a search for the new Avatar would begin in the Earth Kingdom. Noatak does not know if he would have the heart, or the patience, to go after another one. If it came to that, he does not think he could raise another Avatar himself. Korra is the only one he wants. As stubborn and insufferable as she can be, he has come to love her, even if he does not say so.

Still, he has to get her ready for the path he hopes she will choose to take.

He makes her keep a journal of current events they learn about from the newspaper and radio. The airbending master and his wife have two more children, after intervals of about three years between each. The Chief of the Northern Water Tribe appoints a new representative to the United Republic Council. When Korra notices Noatak staring at the picture in the newspaper, he merely comments that it seems strange to have someone so young in government. The other Council members are middle-aged or elderly, while Tarrlok is in his late thirties or early forties. "I guess we'll see how he does," he says finally, folding up the newspaper.

For physical activity, they run through the park, or up and down the apartment stairs. Noatak installs a bar in the small corridor between their bedrooms so they can practice chin-ups. He buys a punching bag for Korra's birthday, so she can practice her self-defense techniques at home. But he also tries teaching her some more offensive tactics, the forerunners of chi-blocking (something he deeply hopes to teach her when she is older).

Korra's science education includes growing flowers and vegetables on the rooftop, cooking meals, touring the Future Industries facilities, and—her favorite—field trips. They go on camping trips into the mountains, every three or four years. He teaches her the survival skills nonbenders must use, techniques he had to learn during his years of traveling alone.

"Is it like this in the Water Tribes?" she asks, surveying the snowy terrain. Even in the spring, the mountains are covered with snow. It still reminds Korra of her old life, before she came to Republic City, though the specific memories are dimmer now.

"Somewhat," he says noncommittally.

"Did Grandpa ever take you camping?"

"Not for fun, like you and I do. He took my brother and me on hunting trips."

"Can we hunt?"

"No. It's too much of a hassle to get permission to hunt in places like this, where it isn't necessary for survival." They eat the food they packed, but they do make a fire for light and heat. Korra asks if he can tell scary stories, but he lies and says he knows none.

Noatak takes her fishing in the bay, and sometimes they explore the coasts outside the city. They bring Asami on one trip, but she is more interested in examining the mechanics of the motorboat and fishing rods than in actually fishing or observing nature. Korra is also too impatient to wait for fish to bite, but she enjoys and is good at navigating.

Her favorite type of field trip, one saved for special occasions because it actually costs money, is visiting the zoo. Noatak tells her what he can remember about arctic animals. They stay in that section for hours. Noatak wonders if she remembers the antarctic, the constant snow and ice of the tundra.

But there is no way she could have seen a polar-bear dog, which is the animal that fascinates and amuses her the most. The plaque reports that it is a female, Naga, apparently the same age as Korra, or at least at the same proportional stage of life, midway through maturity.

A glass wall separates them from the beast's arctic habitat. Korra presses her hand against the glass barrier, watching as Naga meanders around the pool.

On the walk home Noatak asks her, "Would you like a pet? Something you could take care of?" He does not like the idea of anything big that might make messes or cause trouble, but something small might be good for Korra.

But she shakes her head. "I don't think a polar-bear dog would fit in the apartment."

"You really like them that much?"

"Just that one. Naga. I can't explain it, but I feel like she's the same as me, somehow."

He wonders what she means. Is she lonely? Does she feel trapped, like a wild animal kept in a cage? Or different, like someone taken out of their environment, and forced to adapt to a new one? He tells himself he is probably thinking too much of it.

As Korra gets older, Noatak entrusts her with assignments to complete on her own, sometimes enough for several days at a time, while he meets, trains, and plans with his Equalists. They are growing in numbers, and his presence is needed more as the movement slowly gains momentum. He feels confident leaving Korra alone in the apartment. She can cook her own meals and take care of herself for the most part.

He always comes in and checks on her when he comes home. If she has fallen asleep by then, he kisses her cheek before retiring himself. If she is still awake, they debrief on what she did while he was gone. She also asks about his days, and he tries to tell her some truth—"I spoke at a meeting, and I did better than I expected, so I'm hopeful that it will bring results."

* * *

She is almost thirteen when he notices her shape changing, the same way he always notices when she is starting to outgrow a garment. He cannot imagine offering to take her shopping for some kind of chest support or whatever they use in this city. He thinks his mother just wrapped herself in sarashi, but the memory is so dim—probably from his infancy, if it is even accurate—that he cannot be sure.

Noatak decides to be discreet and buy her an array of devices of varying size, and leaves the bag on her bed for her to find in the evening.

The next day, she does not mention anything, but her shape is a little less pronounced. Noatak feels relieved to have avoided such awkwardness.

Korra has her thirteenth birthday a few months later. They call it her birthday, though it is really the anniversary of her adoption. Some years, on this day, Noatak recounts to her their first few months together. He admits to being nervous during that time, and that admission heightens her awareness that, even now, he does not always know what he is doing. Her memory of the transition is dim, so she believes what he says about choosing her, and how the matter of choice was what made their family special.

She does not have enough friends for a real birthday party, but Noatak lets her invite Asami to spend the night with them. It is the first time a stranger has been in their apartment. If Korra feels at all embarrassed about their humble abode, she does not show it. The spacious rooftop and its panoramic view of the city partly makes up for the apartment's smallness.

The girls practice sparring, like old times, just for fun. Then Noatak shows the girls how to make Water Tribe-style accessories, so they spend the evening making vambraces, armbands, and necklaces. Korra and Asami braid rope bracelets for each other. "The girls at my school give each other friendship bracelets," Asami explains. "But I like this style better," she adds, to be polite to Noatak.

After dinner, they give Korra her birthday gifts. Noatak gives her a necklace, even though she has never been very interested in jewelry. He braided the choker himself, but he bought the pendant at a jewelry store, making the gift a combination of craftsmanship and commerce. The characters for "daughter," 女兒, are carved into the blue pendant. The necklace makes Korra think of an animal collar. It does not give her a name, but a label for the only defining relationship in her life.

Asami's gift is a package containing an assortment of sports magazines. Korra is pleased and even a little excited, but she becomes confused when she sees one about pro-bending—and then another—more than half of the dozen-odd magazines are about pro-bending! Asami explains her assumption that since Korra is such a good athlete, she must be able to appreciate the sport.

In Korra's bedroom, out of Noatak's sight, they look at the magazines together. Korra knows nothing about the sport, and is surprised by Asami's enthusiasm for it, but she looks through the pages with a strange mixture of wonder, repulsion, and curiosity.

Eventually Noatak makes them turn out the lights, but they do not bother trying to sleep. Instead they talk about Asami's private school and the people she knows there. Most of them are boarders, but Asami lives at home because her father wants her close. They compare their fathers, and share what they remember of their mothers.

"You're lucky you got so much time with your mom," Korra says, wistful but not unkind.

"I know … but that also makes it harder, now that she's gone. Do you miss your parents?"

"I don't think _miss_ is the right word. I don't remember them well enough to miss them."

They move on to more optimistic topics. They talk about getting jobs at Future Industries, or starting their own dojo, or circumventing the globe.

In the morning, the moment Asami goes out the door, Noatak throws the magazines into the garbage bin. "I don't know what Hiroshi thinks he is doing by letting her follow this sport," he mutters, tearing a bound issue in half as Korra watches from the kitchen table. "It's barbaric, watching benders hurt each other, worshiping the winners like heroes, building an entire economic industry around them. It all comes down to greed for power, fame, and wealth. That's what nonbenders support when they endorse these sports."

For years to come, Korra remembers those words more clearly than anything Asami told her about the sport.

* * *

Noatak tells himself this must be their last camping trip, because from now on he has to devote more of his time to the movement he is creating, so it can gain the strength and momentum it needs.

It is easier now that Korra is older: she can carry half of their supplies, and hike fast across the slopes; she picks up firewood along the way. When they find a good campsite, she helps set up the tent, and sets up wood for the fire, the way he showed her. She is becoming a capable, self-sufficient young woman.

They spend two nights in the snow-capped mountains, trekking from one campsite to the next. She recognizes them individually from past trips, and now sees how they are connected by the long trails. They catch fish in a stream, the closest they can come to hunting together.

In the afternoon after their first night, the sky becomes gray with clouds. Noatak can feel the blizzard coming before a single flake falls. They are too deep in the forested area to turn back for civilization. "We'll have to set up camp early and wait out the storm," he decides. He is not particularly worried about the cold. He has survived far worse weather than anything the United Republic's climate can produce.

"Will we be okay?" Korra is not afraid, but she bases her feelings on his assessment of the situation.

"Of course we will. But, we should get more wood and water before the storm hits."

They stop at the first clearing they find, not a proper campsite, but they make do. "I'll look for firewood," she offers as he starts setting up the tent.

"Fine—just stay within a hundred yards of here."

Korra returns with a rather meager pile of sticks. "There aren't many branches on the ground," she says. She glances at their canteens, which are almost empty after the day's hike. "Couldn't I refill our water and get more wood on the way?"

"You remember where the stream is?"

"Yeah, I remember the shape it made up this way," she says, gesturing northeast.

"Alright. Be back in half an hour." That will give her fifteen minutes to walk to and from the stream.

Noatak ties the food up out of predators' reach, sets up their sleeping bags in the tent, and makes a fire pit, though he is uncertain whether they will actually make a fire while it is snowing. Staying in the tent might be the warmer option.

The snow starts to fall before Korra returns. It is too cloudy to measure time with the sun—he should have realized that when he allowed her to leave. Korra is probably glad she got away with that. He thinks it has been at least half an hour. Three quarters will be pushing it, he thinks; but Korra does not return by his approximation of that time. Now he feels justifiably worried, as the flakes get thicker.

Noatak takes up a flashlight and leaves the campsite, trudging toward the stream. He runs through possibilities in his mind. Korra is resourceful, but she is also reckless, and sometimes careless. She could have gotten turned around, losing her way to or from the freshwater source.

This is the first time Noatak can remember being truly afraid for her safety. He has worried about her in general, after accidents that resulted in her injury, but he has never been held in suspense like this.

He spies one of their canteens on the ground, some twenty yards downhill from the stream. She was here, but why was she going farther away from him? Surely she would not deliberately run away—even if she had that in her, she would know better than to do it with a blizzard coming. Noatak realizes his own hypocrisy at once: that was exactly what he did in his youth. But Korra has no reason to leave him. Unless she found out one of the many secrets he has been keeping from her. Would betrayal drive her away from him?

Noatak shakes his head, as though that will clear his mind. He has to stay calm. These are his general fears, not relevant to this particular situation. He has to focus.

He closes his eyes and tries to feel past the snow all around him, searching for water in a different form, inside living bodies. He has bent the blood of benders he caught committing crimes—he had to kill them later, to keep both his known ability and the ability he sought a secret—but now he tries to feel without controlling. He knows Korra so well, he thinks he should be able to recognize her.

Yes, he feels the heat of her blood, a sharp contrast against the cold snow, bigger than any of the small animals that live in the mountains, more concentrated than the water-filled trees and plants. She is further down the slope, to his right.

He finds her curled up at the base of a tree, her arms pulled into the body of her coat, leaving the sleeves limp at her sides. She is leaning sideways against the trunk, her head bowed drowsily.

"Korra!" Noatak kneels and shakes her by the shoulders. Her eyes are open, but her brown lips are nearly blue, and she cannot form words with them. He scoops her up, holding her tightly against him, and runs the distance back to their tent. He wishes he could make a fire inside the shelter, but that would risk smoking them out.

He pulls off her outer coat. Thankfully her clothes are not soaked through, but he helps her change into warmer pajamas anyway, and wraps the blankets around both of them. She shivers against him, and he rubs her arms and back rhythmically until she relaxes. He makes her eat some of their high-carbohydrate food and drink warm water (she does not ask how it came to be warm). As the evening wears on he can feel her temperature gradually adjust back to normal.

"How do you feel?" he asks after some time.

"Better. Warm." She can speak now, and hear and understand him.

"What happened to you? Your job was simple—you said you knew the way—"

"It wasn't my fault! I didn't just get lost. I was attacked."

This is unexpected, and troubling. He raised her to be capable of defending herself. "By who?"

"The question is _what_. It wasn't like any animal I've seen."

"Describe it."

"It … it was dark blue … it looked like a kind of giant bug, but it was as big as me … made this hissing sound …"

That sounds like something he has only ever heard of. "A spirit?"

"… Maybe? It came at me, so I tried kind of sledding down the slope. It worked, I got away, but I tripped—I guess I crashed." She pauses. "I blacked out for a while. I remember dreaming." She does not tell him what she dreamed about. "I woke up, and my tracks were covered, so I didn't know what direction I'd come from. I didn't want to go in circles, and I thought I should save my energy. I figured you'd come looking for me."

She was not trying to leave him. She had faith that he would search for her. A child's faith. A daughter's faith. Was it misplaced? He found her, yes, but it took longer than it should have, and the truth of the matter is that she could have saved herself if she had only known she was capable of doing so. Noatak has always thought that, if Korra ever rediscovered her bending by accident, it would probably be in an emergency, even more likely a life-or-death situation. Now, for the first time in their shared lives, he wonders if he has been wrong to not tell her that she is a bender. If she knew she could firebend, she could have kept herself warm until he found her. If she knew she could waterbend, she could have easily made some kind of shelter out of snow. She almost died because he kept her abilities a secret.

For the first time in a decade, he wonders if he is doing the right thing.

But feeling her snuggle against him for warmth and security, he decides he is doing well enough. At the same time, he realizes just how much he wants and needs her.

"I'd scold you now if we weren't both so tired. I was … afraid for you, Korra."

He almost never tells her his emotions, so she knows how serious this is. "I'm sorry, Dad."

He finds her hand under the blankets, and holds it against his chest. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't."

"Good girl." He kisses the top of her head and finally allows himself to relax. The night is long, but he does not mind; he drifts contentedly in the area between sleep and wakefulness, drowsy enough to rest, but conscious enough to remember his daughter asleep and warm in his arms. His last coherent thought is that he will never risk losing her again.

* * *

Disclaimer: it was pulpofiction who first used the idea of Korra seeing Naga in a zoo.

Artwork: "Here" by Emorephic on DeviantArt, for the scene when Korra gives the boys food

Music: "It's Quiet Uptown" from _Hamilton_. I first thought of the song as describing Senna and Tonraq coping with the loss of Korra, but for this chapter it fits with Hiroshi mourning his wife and how both he and Noatak worry about losing their daughters.


	5. Simple

_Published July 11, 2015  
_

"Simple"

* * *

It is thrilling—dangerously contagious—to be in the presence of mania, if one does not quite recognize what mania is. ~ Joyce Carol Oates, _A Widow's Story_

* * *

The Equalists move gradually into the public light. They appear in plainclothes to hold signs bearing Amon's image at at nonbender protests, and help other participants get away when police come to break up the rabble. Volunteers pass out fliers in the park and at the metro station. Graffiti starts to appear in alleyways, painted either by Equalists or their sympathizers or imitators. That is not something Amon ordered, but it is encouraging nevertheless.

The more progress they make, the more he wants to share his work with Korra. He always hoped that she would join the cause, but now he feels a bit of personal pride. He would rather share the experience with her than have her watch it from a distance. In fact, with his workload increasing, Noatak has to spend less and less time with Korra, and unfortunately that gives her more time to get into trouble.

She cannot stay quiet when she sees bullies intimidating people, and more than once she is a target of these juvenile but nevertheless ruthless attacks. But unlike most nonbenders, she does not cower, run, or talk her way out: she is ready and willing to use the self-defense skills she has spent years perfecting.

Noatak only becomes aware of this when he finds Korra hiding bruises and burns under her sleeves. When he sees them, he is torn between pride and protectiveness. She is fierce and fearless and defiant—the kind of person he wants and needs on his side. But Korra is also reckless, and perfectly willing to go against orders. While he is glad for her willingness to bend or break rules as far as government is concerned, he needs obedience if she is to work under his direction.

He tells her to fill up her time with odd jobs—they need the money, now that he has cut back so much on his library hours to devote himself to Equalist activities. There are recruits to train, blueprints to review, plans to make. He carefully schedules the phases of the revolution itself, from its beginning to its end.

Korra _tries_ to find a job, but the advertisements she sees in the paper irritate her. The power plant wants firebenders who can produce lightning. Construction companies want earthbenders, particularly metalbenders. The hospital wants waterbenders who can heal. Even lifeguard positions go to waterbenders first, nonbenders as a last resort. Bending makes for better cooks, better laborers, better trainers.

Finally Noatak quits his job at the library, and she takes his place there. It is tedious work, but she knows how the system is organized, and she gets to see a lot of different people come in. Sometimes people she recognizes from the soup kitchens come in seeking shelter; it is her unfortunate job to ask them to leave, but she gives them food to make up for it. Sometimes Gommu, an itinerant United Forces veteran, even checks out a book or two.

Sometimes really unusual people come in. An Air Acolyte, a nonbender convert to the Air Nomad culture, regularly comes requesting books for Master Tenzin's family. Apparently he, too, home-schools his children, and one of them has a reading level far above what is typical of her young age. Most of the books the Acolyte takes are about culture and history.

A couple guys who come to the library try flirting with Korra, which sometimes amuses her and sometimes annoys her, depending on their attitude and her mood. She and Noatak have never discussed boys or dating—even the thought of having such a conversation makes her cringe—and she doesn't really know how to talk to boys. She embarrasses herself on the few occasions she tries to flirt back, so after that she tries to shut down such conversations.

In the afternoons, she shops for groceries and does her chores at home—laundry, caring for the rooftop garden, keeping the apartment clean. In the evenings, when Noatak is out at meetings, she reads or listens to the radio. She likes feeling independent, almost like she is taking care of herself, but it bothers her that Noatak has left so much of the breadwinning and housekeeping on her shoulders, and hardly has time to spend with her. Her wages cover their groceries and clothes, and his mysterious job income covers their rent and bills, but there is almost no money to spare for fun.

* * *

Korra's first run-in with the law is so innocent it makes Noatak laugh once he hangs up the phone. According to a security guard, Korra snuck into the zoo because she had no money to pay the admission.

"Did you have any particular reason for going to the zoo?" he inquires casually.

Her response is little more than a mutter. "I wanted to see Naga."

He remembers. The polar-bear dog is still Korra's favorite animal. He has actually wondered whether their connection might be stronger than she realizes. Both of them are strong, fierce yet lovable females. Both are contained and seem fairly tame, but carry a threat of untapped power.

Her second legal transgression is unexpected but rather pleasing: she goes to a protest outside the police headquarters, decrying the police for their brutality to nonbenders and compliance with the triads and other criminals. When the police come to break it up, she defies orders to halt, and then tries to fight the metalbenders, who threaten, and then proceed, to arrest her and a few dozen other protestors.

She calls their landlord, who notifies Noatak when he returns home after helping the Equalists in the aftermath of the protest. Finally, late in the evening, he goes in plainclothes to the police station to pick Korra up. She is behind bars with a dozen other women and girls. When her father enters, Korra looks up briefly, then looks down at the floor, avoiding his impassive gaze.

Chief Lin Beifong glares at the two of them as they pass through. "She had some pretty colorful things to say about my officers," she informs him.

He looks at Korra with raised eyebrows. "Did she?" This time Korra looks him in the eye, defiant but wary; when he cracks a smile, she knows he is on her side. Still, he keeps his tone respectful and compliant as he says, "Rest assured, Chief, we're going to have a long talk about this."

"Just get her out of my sight."

Korra glances back at Beifong as she follows Noatak to the door. The gray-haired woman points to her own eyes and then at Korra, indicating, _I'm watching you_. Korra then surprises her by making the same gesture. Noatak has to bite back a smile when he sees the chief's bewilderment followed by incredulity.

Once they exit the building he suggests, "Why don't we walk home? I think we have a lot to talk about."

She shrugs, indifferent but assenting, and falls into step beside him. He used to hold her hand when they walked in the city, careful to keep his charge close, but now he keeps his hands in his pockets. Korra has her arms folded and shoulders hunched. Noatak cannot tell if she is sulking or ashamed. Probably the former.

She keeps glancing at him, as though expecting him to explode. "You're not mad?"

"Not at you. You know I detest that corrupt establishment. On the other hand, multiple offenses will build a poor reputation, and could make it more difficult to find employment in the future, so I do not recommend doing that again."

"You want me to give up?"

"On the contrary. I just want you to go about it in a different way."

"How?"

The silence stretches so long that she thinks he has no answer. But then he makes a strange suggestion. "Would you like to break some more laws?"

She looks at him, one of those moments when she is not certain whether he is joking or serious.

"I'm talking about Equalism. You've heard about it, haven't you?"

"Sure. I've seen protesters handing out fliers at the park."

"Did you ever read the fliers?"

"Um, I skimmed one. Once."

"Equalism is not just a philosophy. I've been turning it into a movement. And I think you're old enough to learn what it is we do." He has always evaded her questions about his work, but now he thinks she can keep the secret.

"I thought it was about changing legislation or helping the needy."

"The legislators won't listen to us. And charity is like treating a patient's symptoms, instead of the disease that causes them. It helps in the short term, but the problem continues in the long term."

"So, basically, you're saying that everything we've ever done to help people has been pointless."

"Not exactly. What we're trying to do is end the disease itself. We have it in our power to end the classism in our city, and eventually the whole world."

She smirks slightly, and nods as if he has proven her point. "There it is—that's the idealism I'm used to hearing from you."

"It's not just an ideal anymore, Korra. It's a reality."

She stares at him, her interest fully captured. "When we get home, I'll show you something, and explain what I mean."

At the apartment, he puts on water for tea, and draws the curtains before addressing Korra. "What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this apartment. Do you understand?" She nods. "Do I have your word you won't tell anyone about this?" Her frown deepens, but she agrees.

"Yes. I swear it."

He goes to his bedroom closet, and returns with a mask, which he sets down on the table. Korra comes over with the teacups, and picks up the item curiously. "The guy on the fliers wears a mask like this."

"I am that guy on the fliers."

She looks up sharply at him, and her stare becomes incredulous. Noatak merely smiles. "I am Amon. That's what I call myself when I'm working."

"So you … _you're_ the leader? This is what you do when you're out working?"

"That is right. I take my income from our funds—we have some very wealthy benefactors among us."

Korra holds the mask carefully, studying it. Her brow is furrowed, and he cannot guess whether she is curious or critical. Perhaps both. "I can't decide if I like it or not," she says finally.

"What's not to like?"

The line that is meant to look like a mouth looks like a frown from some angles, and a smile from others. Either way, it seems to her … not emotionless, exactly, but cold, condescending. "I don't know. It's not … you."

"That's the idea, Korra. It's someone else entirely. No one will guess who I am."

"But what's the point?"

"Remember that urban legend from the Hundred Year War? The one about the Blue Spirit?"

"Yeah, I remember." It was an anecdote in one of the history books she studied years ago.

"Whoever he was, he wasn't really a spirit. He was a well-trained ninja with unknown motives, hiding his identity with a mask. It was the _idea_ that he could be a spirit that made people fear and respect him."

"You want people to think you're a spirit?"

"No, but people have a tendency to fear what they do not know." When she still looks skeptical he explains, "All the Equalists wear masks, so that the police and benders won't recognize them. Many never see each other's faces, so if they are caught they cannot identify each other to the police. But I need to be distinguished so my followers recognize me as their leader."

"I guess that makes sense."

The teapot whistles on the stove, and he goes over to add the leaves. He returns with the pot and pours a cup for each of them. "Eventually, we will turn the tables in this city. But to get to that point, we will need to break the laws put in place by the tyrants who run our government. That is what we are preparing to do."

"How?"

"We're planning a revolution. We now have the numbers, the skills, and the resources to carry it out."

"You're serious?"

He gives her a somewhat withering look before confirming, "I have never been more serious about anything in my life."

Korra's skepticism finally passes, leaving her awed and excited. She has heard him criticize the government for years, but now he is openly talking about overthrowing the government. There is something enticing about something so illicit happening right in their apartment.

"When will it happen?"

"In another year, or two at most. And, if you want, _you_ can be a part of it."

She stares at him again. "You'd let me do that?"

"Yes. But I want us to have an understanding, Korra. If you become an Equalist, it will not be because I asked you or made you. I do not want you to feel forced or obligated to follow in my footsteps. I only want you to do it if it is what _you_ want."

"What will I have to do?"

"First, train with other new initiates in chi-blocking and basic espionage. It shouldn't be difficult; you're already proficient in self-defense. Then, when the revolution begins, you can help carry out the political coup and military assault."

These are the kinds of words she has heard in her lessons on history and sociology and political science. She does not know what they actually look like. "This isn't something to take lightly," he warns. "If we are caught—and it is more than possible that some of us will be caught along the way—we'll be subject to the police. Being an Equalist requires _complete_ commitment, and a willingness to work hard, take risks, and follow orders."

"Your orders?"

He smiles again. "Yes, Korra, they do as I say, without question. In fact, you're the only one who has ever gotten away with disobeying me—but then, I was not Amon at those times. Now, if you do join, I'll have to treat you like any other recruit. No one will know we are related. As far as you need to know, Noatak and Amon are two different people. No one can know that the Equalists' leader has a family that benders could target and use as leverage."

Korra understands. For him to be a effective leader, he has to be (or at least appear) unattached.

"Whether you join us or not, it's up to you."

Of course she wants to help; of course she wants to fight injustice. She looks him in the eyes, light blue meeting dark blue, and says with certainty, "I want to do it."

He looks more pleased than she has seen him in a long time. He offers her his hand, and after a moment's hesitation she shakes it, suddenly aware of a new formality between them.

"Welcome to the underground."

* * *

Korra has to attend a few meetings for new initiates, to learn about the Equalist network's operation and goals. It feels strange seeing her father as a leader. She is amazed by how much the Equalists respect him, taking his orders without question. Her own respect for him increases as she realizes how complex and efficient his network of followers is.

She is awed and thrilled by the chi-blocking lessons, which are literally underground, held in the basements of old buildings. The trainees wear scarves over the lower halves of their faces, but they do not get full-body suits and masks until they work their way up higher in the militia.

A few of the recruits were in Korra's martial arts classes years ago. Back then, they learned how to defend themselves. Now, they learn to attack, to neutralize threats and cut off disproportionate power. When they were little, they practiced blocking attacks, but the ones playing attacker never meant to hurt their partners, and so did not use much force. Now, they do not hold back, and so Korra learns not to hold back (as her father and teachers always told her to in the past). Korra quickly excels, passing one level after another so quickly that Noatak has to urge her to slow down, to perfect the skills she accumulates instead of trying to gain as many as possible.

After learning the full gamut of chi-blocking, and demonstrating it in a ceremony before a full-uniformed Amon, she is allowed to begin espionage training. The full uniform that she is now required to wear feels like a bug costume. Still, the classes are exciting, and she looks forward to being able to go on actual assignments once her training is complete.

Around the same time, the seventeenth anniversary of Avatar Aang's death becomes a major talking point for radio personalities, news reporters, and most of Republic City's citizens. Traditionally, the new Avatar's identity is kept secret from everyone—including said Avatar—until his or her sixteenth birthday. At that point, his or her country's spiritual leaders would formally announce it to the public. Now enough time has passed to account for the Avatar's mother's pregnancy and sixteen subsequent birthdays. Yet the new Avatar has still not been announced. At this point, people begin to suspect that the Avatar has not even been found.

Some non-benders see this as a reason to join the Equalists. Those who were holding out for a new hope to emerge and end the city's injustices realize that Amon, not the Avatar, is that hope. They also feel better taking action for themselves than waiting for some mythical figure to rise.

Now, as she passes by neighbors and strangers on the street, Korra has the feeling of keeping a secret, of needing to keep a straight face. It is only when she has a scarf or mask on her face that she can let down her casual expression—a façade of normality. Ironically, the mask makes her feel free. When she wears it, she can be herself, not bothering to stifle her emotions and expressions. She is hidden, safe, and free. This makes her feel powerful, in a way different from the power her fighting abilities give her. It feels good to be part of something big, something active and effective.

She is surprised, though pleased, to learn that Hiroshi Sato is part of this underground network. Of course he has the wealth, resources, and technology that any militia would need. She wonders if she might see Asami again, and whether they would recognize each other if they were both in uniform.

* * *

When she does hear from Asami, it is under normal circumstances, over the phone. "Korra? It's Asami."

"Asami?" It has been several months—actually, a couple of years—since they last spoke. Thinking back, Korra realizes that she stopped seeing her friend regularly around the time that she joined the Equalists. But the call is as casual as if it has only been days since they saw each other.

"How are you?"

"Oh … keeping busy. And you?"

"I'm great. Actually, I was wondering if you would want to get together—"

"Sure."

"—and meet some friends of mine."

That is different. Most of Asami's school friends live a fair distance away, and as far as Korra knows she does not have many friends in the city. "Who?"

"It's two brothers. Their names are Mako and Bolin." Asami pauses. "Do you know who they are?"

"Um … should I?"

"They play for the Fire Ferrets! Well, maybe you haven't heard about them because they're so new. They only formed a team this year. They were lined up to enter the pro-bending championship, but then their teammate ditched them and they had to forfeit."

"Wait—they're benders?"

Asami does not register the tone of surprise. "Yeah, Mako's a firebender, and Bolin is an earthbender."

"You're friends with these guys?"

"Well, actually, Mako and I just recently started dating."

"You're kidding!"

"I swear it's true!"

Korra feels thoroughly confused. How, and why, did Asami put herself in this situation? Why is Asami reacting this way to her questions, as though dating a firebender is a good thing? Korra heard many stories of domestic abuse during her years of volunteering, and the worst cases were always between benders and non-benders. The power imbalance is too obvious to ignore: benders can most easily threaten and hurt their nonbending spouses or children. Korra's (admittedly inexperienced) understanding is that dating is supposed to be the precursor of marriage. Surely Hiroshi will not let Asami seriously consider marrying a bender—especially not a firebender, after what happened to her mother. Why would Asami _want_ to do that? Hasn't losing her mother hurt her just as much as Hiroshi?

While all this is going through her mind, Asami stops laughing and starts talking again. "Here's the thing: Mako feels bad about going out while his brother is alone. But Bolin doesn't want to be a third wheel with us. So I thought maybe we could go out as a group … or a double date, if you want to look at it that way."

"Waaaiiiiit. Are you trying to be some kind of matchmaker?" The ridiculousness of the two ideas—Asami setting her up, and Asami seriously considering a bender for a boyfriend—makes Korra laugh. But at the same time, there is a slight sensation in her chest and stomach, something like excitement, or the glow of flattery. She has never been on a date before; Noatak certainly never talked to her about it. He has probably held on to hope that she would never take any interest in the opposite sex. But she would like to start at some point …

"It wouldn't be anything formal, just the four of us hanging out. We could get some food and pretend to be tourists."

That does sound fun. Why not? Of course she cannot seriously consider dating a bender. But she has not seen Asami for quite a while, and this could be interesting.

"Okay, sure."

"Great! We were thinking of going out tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at seven."

It is not until after Korra has hung up that she considers how to tell Noatak, and realizes that she ought to have gotten his approval first. But he never would have given it.

Something Asami used to say, when they were young and trying something reckless, surfaces in her memory: _"It's better to ask forgiveness than permission."_

She decides that with so much going on, her father doesn't really need to know the details of all her activities. If things turn ugly, she is more than capable of protecting Asami and herself.

* * *

Asami picks her up on time. The simonized Satomobile―probably the latest model―looks ostentatious in this neighborhood of apartment buildings and small businesses.

Korra jumps over the door, instead of opening it, and plops into the passenger seat. "Hey."

Asami grins. "Hey yourself." She looks even more beautiful than Korra remembered: her hair is the longest she has ever seen it, and she has makeup on, but applied so flawlessly that it is not clearly visible. "It's good to see you again."

"You too." Korra fastens her seatbelt as Asami starts driving. "So where are we going?"

"Narook's Seaweed Noodlery. It's Bolin's favorite place to eat. They'll meet us there at eight."

"Won't we be kind of early?"

"I thought we could have some time to talk first."

"I'm sorry it's been a while."

"Oh, that's okay. You know what it's like—we're older, we're busier, all that."

"How have you been? School going alright?"

"I actually graduated, this past spring."

"What? Wow—congratulations!"

"Thanks. So, are you still doing the home-schooling?"

"Kind of. Lately I've had to work more than study." She cannot go into detail, not only because she is unsure how much Asami knows about the Equalists, but because their situations are so different. As children she only felt it regarding their homes and recreation. Hanging out at Asami's mansion meant having access to a pool, a racetrack, and any kind of food imaginable. Hanging out at Korra's apartment meant playing on the rooftop and doing whatever they could do in the small indoor space. Now, as teenagers, the difference in wealth shapes their free time: Korra has to work in order to eat, while Asami is free to pursue whatever job or leisure activity she wants.

Narook's joint is in the Little Water Tribe, the section of Republic City where many Water Tribe immigrants live and try to replicate their culture. They make it well before the boys arrive. "I think you'll like these guys," Asami says as they sit down in a booth. "Bolin's really funny, and kind of happy-go-lucky."

"What's Mako like?" Korra is curious what it is about this firebender that makes Asami like him.

"He's really mature and responsible—I think that's why he and I get along so well."

"But, what's his personality?"

"It's hard to say. I'm still just getting to know him."

"You knew that Bolin is funny and happy-go-lucky."

"Well, that's kind of hard to miss. Mako's more … reserved, I guess. With some people, you have to dig a little to get to know them. But he responds when I reach out."

"And how does he respond?"

Asami shrugs, but she is smiling. "Polite, pleasant. We have a little banter by now." Suddenly her eyes light up. "There they are!" She waves toward the entrance, and Korra sits up to look.

The boys both have black hair, though the taller one has it spiked up in the front; the other has a cowlick on his forehead, and the rest of his hair sticks up in the back. There is something about the sight of the two black-haired boys that seems familiar to her.

The taller one in red and gray smiles and starts toward them, but the shorter one in green holds out an arm to stop him. He turns his back to them, facing his brother and slicking his hair back. He says something that makes his elder shrug and nod; finally he turns around, striding forward confidently while his brother rolls his eyes.

Asami giggles at their exchange, while Korra feels clueless. "What was that about?"

"Bolin already likes you." That is all Asami has time to say before the boys reach them. She gets up and gives the taller boy a kiss on the cheek, before telling the other one, "I'm glad you could come." She looks at Korra and gestures to each of the boys in turn, indicating who is who. "Mako, Bolin, this is my friend Korra."

"Hi," Mako says, holding up a gloved hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you!" Bolin shakes Korra's hand, smiling enthusiastically.

"You too," Korra answers automatically, smiling to be polite, hoping it looks genuine. He seems truly excited to be here. She feels momentarily sorry that she is bound to disappoint him.

"Shall we?" Asami gestures to the booth, and they slide in, the girls on one side, the boys on the other; Asami and Mako are directly across from each other, leaving Korra facing Bolin.

Bolin keeps looking at her, as though studying her. She feels a little self-conscious, an unusal feeling for her. "What? Did my ponytails come out?"

"No, you—you look great. I just—I feel like I've seen you before."

She almost misses the compliment, because she is more perplexed by the fact that he finds her familiar as well. "I was actually thinking the same thing about you two."

Mako shrugs. "Probably in the news, 'cause of our team."

"I don't think so. I don't really follow pro-bending."

"Oh."

"Really?" Bolin blurts out. "Why not?"

She shrugs, leaning back in her seat. "Just never got into it, I guess." She remembers the magazines Asami gave her as a birthday present. She may have once felt some regret at not being allowed to see matches, or even hear them on the radio. She thought she would enjoy it as much as she would enjoy seeing non-benders duke it out, with or without weapons. But the industry built around the sport embodies everything that she is now fighting against: the glorification of benders, the feeding of oversized egos and moneybags.

"You look like an athlete, though," Bolin says. "You work out?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Cool." When she does not say any more he presses, "You do any sports?"

"Swimming, running, parkour when I can find or make a good course. Plus some … mixed martial arts kind of things."

"Whoa, neat! Hey, maybe we could spar sometime, trade some tricks."

She makes a noncommittal noise, but Asami says, "You don't know what an offer that is, Korra. They're really good."

"They couldn't teach us bending."

"Still—_I'd_ like to see it."

Narook comes over and asks what they would like. Not that there are many selections: all he sells are noodles. The only variables are the size and flavor of individual dishes. When he leaves, Korra glances between Mako and Asami. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Asami ran into Mako on her moped," Bolin says helpfully.

Korra blinks, surprised and instinctively concerned. "What? Seriously?" She looks over at Mako, who seems healthy and uninjured.

"Yeah." Asami smiles in embarrassment. "I offered to take him out to dinner to make it up to him."

"It was partly my fault," Mako confesses, avoiding both girls' eyes. "I was trying to catch the streetcar, so I ran out into the street without looking."

"Well … I know it sounds weird to say this, but I'm really glad I hit you with my moped."

He looks up at her and chuckles a little. "Ah, me too."

Korra has the feeling she gets sometimes when she sees people trying to make out in a public place. She has had to shoo out teenagers who try to do so in the library. It is a combination of discomfort and annoyance.

"So, how long have you two known each other?" Mako asks.

"Oh, we go way back," Asami says. "About a decade now. Can you believe that?"

Korra realizes she is right. "Yeah, we were seven or eight when we met." Strange, she still feels as though their friendship is something new, something that needs to be proven and strengthened.

"We were in the same self-defense class. We were usually assigned as partners, and we just kind of clicked from there."

Suddenly Bolin snaps his fingers and points at Korra, a triumphant look on his face. "I know where I've seen you before! At a food pantry, when we were little! You were one of the volunteers, and you brought us second helpings—no one had ever done that for us before!"

She remembers, then: two little boys, one of them wearing a scarf.

The same scarf currently wrapped around Mako's shoulders.

Korra gapes at them, and Mako looks equally startled, peering at her as though seeing her clearly for the first time. It has been so many years since she thought of them, and here they are in front of her. She tries to remember the details of that encounter, but when she does, she feels more confused, not less. "Your parents—you said a firebender—killed them."

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. I remembered that—though, I haven't thought about it in years. Were you guys … homeless?"

Mako answers reluctantly. "Uh, yeah."

"For how long?"

"I don't know … six, maybe seven years?"

Korra feels flabbergasted. When Asami said these boys were pro-benders, she imagined them as rich, stuck-up celebrities, not orphans who grew up in poverty. They know as much as she does—in fact, probably more than she does—about how harsh the streets of Republic City can be. She feels humbled, even more than she did when she met them years ago.

"This must be fate, or something," Bolin marvels. "I mean, what are the chances of us meeting again after so long?"

"Maybe higher than you'd think," Mako counters, "if we've all lived in the city all this time."

"But the city's huge, you can live a lifetime here and not cross paths …" They start arguing about hypothetical probability, but Korra is only half listening, still processing the paradox. To her, there have only been benders and people hurt by benders. But these boys are both. She is amazed, because she never realized it was possible.

She refocuses when Bolin asks her a question. "So, have you always lived in the city?"

"Since I was four."

"And before that?"

"I don't know. My dad adopted me then, and we've lived here ever since. I don't know where my biological parents were from, or where I lived before that." She almost said _real_, but she learned long ago that the definition of a _real_ parent is subject to debate. She considers Noatak her real father because he chose her, raised her, and loves her.

"What happened to them?"

"I don't know. They're probably dead." She thinks that sounds less pathetic than saying they may have simply not wanted her, or may have been unable to take care of her. That would mean they gave up by choice. Death is more honorable, a legitimate form of defeat.

"I'm sorry," Mako says somberly.

"Me too," Bolin says.

"Thanks." She glances at Asami, wondering if the boys know about her own loss.

Apparently they do not, because Asami says quietly, "I lost my mother when I was very young."

Mako reaches across the table and grasps her hand. She looks up at him, and Korra feels the same discomfort as before—but also something else, something she cannot identify as she sees the two of them looking into each other's eyes.

"We should make a club," Bolin says, looking around the table, "the Family of Two Club."

Mako draws his hand back. "Sounds like a support group," he says, sounding half skeptical and half amused.

"Well, that's what friends do, right?" Asami says. "They support each other."

Korra thinks of the way Amon addresses the Equalists as "brothers and sisters," so much that even some of the lower-level leaders have picked up that familial language. They support each other more than any friends Korra knows of. And aren't families the ones who are supposed to support each other? Unless you do not have a family, in which case you would have to appeal to strangers for any kind of help.

Narook brings their order, and for a while their conversation is stilted, and what they do say is mostly to comment on the food. They wonder whether it is authentic Water Tribe cuisine, and this leads to Asami describing the places she has visited on vacations, and those she has yet to see. All three of Korra's peers have relatives or had ancestors in both the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation.

After talking about her parents, Korra wonders, not for the first time, about the possibility of looking for them; but as usual she brushes it aside, asking herself, _What would be the point?_ She has a family already, and a home, and a purpose she is working toward. She knows where she is and where she is going, so she has no need to know where she came from. Besides, showing an interest in her biological parents might hurt Noatak's feelings, and that is the last thing she wants to do. As for herself, she does not know what might cause more pain: finding out that her parents are dead, or finding out that they are alive, and subsequently having to choose whether or not to meet them.

Bolin lets out a belch, then claps his hand to his mouth, embarrassed. Mako gives him a withering look while Asami politely pretends not to notice. But Korra decides to ease his discomfort, by letting out a louder burp.

Mako and Asami have almost identical looks of surprise, but Bolin's eyes light up. He burps again, this time deliberately, trying to outdo Korra, who counters with the loudest and longest burp yet. Then both of them burst out laughing, and their laughter doubles when they see the disgusted looks that the people at the next table are giving them.

"You guys are real mature," Mako says sarcastically.

"Hey, I was told this wasn't gonna be formal," Korra says, feeling more playful now. Asami giggles while Mako rolls his eyes, but his mouth curls as though he is fighting a smile.

Until now, Korra has never hung out with a group of friends this way; childhood play-dates were always one-on-one time with a friend. This is a different dynamic, but pleasantly so, their energies and personalities ricocheting in unpredictable directions rather than bouncing back and forth. Korra decides she likes it.

"Since you finished school," she says to Asami, "are you thinking about going to a university or something?"

"I _did_ think about going to a trade school," Asami admits. "But honestly, I think I'll learn more by working with my dad. I learned everything I know about vehicles from him. All I need to learn now is the business side."

"I think it's great that you two bond over his work." Korra has only recently experienced that kind of connection herself.

"Does your dad still work at the library?"

"No, he quit a couple years ago. I actually work there now."

"Do you like it?"

"It's alright." It is positively boring, especially compared to her real work, but she knows it is much better than many other nonbenders' jobs.

"So what's your dad been up to?"

Korra tries to think fast, making casual hemming noises. "Oh … well … he's had a few different jobs. Not that he wasn't good at keeping any, he's just had trouble finding … something he loved to do. At least until a few years ago."

"So what does he do now?"

"It's hard to explain … he basically organizes programs to help people, especially when the government won't." That is technically the truth. "His heart is wherever he can help people."

"That's really admirable." Asami's tone is sincere.

Korra cannot help thinking that Asami would make a perfect Equalist: she already has a generous spirit, and she is just as good at martial arts as Korra (if not better—they could never determine which of them was more skilled).

She tries to reach out to the boys as well. "So, what do you guys like to do? When you're not pro-bending, I mean."

"Sometimes I work at the power plant," Mako says. "I can make lightning, and that's in pretty high demand."

"Huh." Somehow, in the course of their meal and conversation, Korra almost forgot he is a firebender. She imagines him shooting fire or lightning out of his hands, and is reminded to stay more alert. She watches his gloved hands as he uses his chopsticks, and wonders if Asami has held them in her own hands, which are so deft when working with machines. Are his hands gentle like hers, or can they hurt people? Maybe that question is unfair; Asami could hurt someone with her hands, if she wanted to. It is not a matter of ability, but of will.

Bolin answers the question for himself. "I take care of Pabu—he's our fire ferret—and I like hanging out with the kids at Central City Station. Oh, and we have to help out at the gym—the Arena, that is. That's part of our deal for living there."

"You live there?"

"Yeah. A few years ago, we met Toza—he was the earthbender for the Boarcupines—and he fixed us up with an apartment in the attic. He gave us the chance to form our own team."

"Yeah. That was nice, while it lasted," Mako says, sounding wistful.

"It was really fun," Bolin agrees.

"Throwing rocks and fire at people is fun?" Korra gripes without thinking. A somewhat awkward silence follows.

"Would you enjoy watching two people try to hit each other?" Asami asks.

"I—" She _has_ done that, both in classes and in public places, like at the park. "Okay, point taken."

"We could go to a game sometime," Bolin suggests. "You'll see how cool it is."

"I don't know …"

"Trust me, you won't be disappointed." He sounds so earnest and enthusiastic.

"I think that's a great idea," Asami agrees. They both look to Korra for an answer.

"I'll have to ask my dad." That is a safe non-answer.

After finishing their meal, they leave the restaurant and drive around in Asami's car. Mako sits in the passenger seat, leaving Korra and Bolin together in the back. Without the windshield's protection, their hair is blown back when the car moves. Bolin kind of lounges in his seat, his arm resting on the side, and smiles whenever Korra glances at him. She smiles back the first few times, but then she avoids his gaze, looking out at the street instead. Seeing him look at her so hopefully, though flattering, makes her feel a little disheartened. She does not want to give hope where there is (or should be) none.

Still, she enjoys the rest of the evening. They get dessert at a soda fountain, and then go to the top of Harmony Tower, one of Republic City's most famous landmarks. The view is amazing on every side.

Finally Asami drops the boys off at the Arena, which looks stunning lit up at night. "Remember to ask about the match," Bolin says as he gets out of the car. "Or just visiting. Or going out."

"I will," Korra promises, because part of her wants to do those things too.

Mako kisses Asami goodnight and nods to Korra. "Nice meeting you—or, er, seeing you again."

"You too," she says. She gets into the passenger seat for the ride home.

Asami keeps giving her sidelong smiles as she drives. "What?" Korra asks.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know. They seem nice."

"Can I ask you something? Was this your first date?"

"Does this count as a date?"

"Well, a double date, but yeah, it was a date."

"Then yeah, this would be my first. And it wasn't a bad one." When they pull up next to the apartment building Korra says, "I didn't expect to have fun tonight, but I did. Thanks for that."

"You're welcome. And I mean that literally: any time you want to hang out, you're welcome with us."

"I might take you up on that!" She waves from the doorstep as Asami drives away. It feels good to know that they can connect after so long apart.

Korra tries to go quietly up the stairs to their floor. She is much better at moving swiftly and silently, thanks to her espionage training. It occurs to her that she could check on Noatak if he is already in bed, as he always does on nights when he is out late—but she finds him sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, drinking stimulating tea to keep himself awake. He stayed up to make sure she made it home.

"How was your evening?" he asks.

"It was nice." She kicks off her boots and hangs up her coat near the door, and approaches him cautiously. "Dad? Does Asami know that her dad is an Equalist?"

He pauses, his expression blank. Korra waits patiently until he answers, "I should hope so, at this point. Why do you ask?"

"She's making friends with bending athletes. In fact, she's dating one."

"What?" He lowers his newspaper and sits up straight. "Are you referring to the people you were with tonight?"

"Yeah. Unless she's trying to lure them into a trap or something—which I can't see her doing, she's so darn _nice—_she seems pretty keen on them."

"What was your impression of them?"

"They _seem_ nice."

He folds up his newspaper and indicates the other chair. "Tell me everything. That's an order from your leader."

Korra raises her eyebrows at him, surprised that he is choosing to play that card; but she sits down anyway, describes the boys, and recounts the evening. She ends by saying, "They invited me to see a pro-bending match with them."

"Oh? And did you accept?"

She suspects that he is testing her. "I said I would have to ask you first," she says honestly.

"But you led them to believe there was a chance that you could?"

"Well … isn't there?"

"You _want_ to go?"

"Well, I'd like to see Asami more. And," she says, as an idea comes to her, "I'd like to keep an eye on her to make sure things don't go badly with them." Yes, that is a legitimate reason to see them again, to make sure they do not hurt Asami. Only, it is hard to picture them doing that. At least, she cannot imagine Bolin doing that—he seemed so innocent—unless that was a front, which is perfectly possible. Mako was more difficult to read, but that aloof attitude could hide a real threat.

"Asami's safety is her father's concern, not yours."

"He can't chaperone every date she goes on!" Actually, he almost certainly could, but Asami would be furious if he did. "But I can go and make it a group thing. There's safety in numbers. Please, Dad?"

Noatak chews on his lower lip, deliberating.

"You always say us nonbenders have to look out for each other," Korra wheedles. "Like brothers and sisters. That's what I want to do for Asami."

Finally he relents. "All right. But it will have to wait until after the event I'm planning. It's going to mark the beginning of the revolution, at least in the eyes of the public. I need you to help us prepare for that."

"Oh. Okay. I'll let Asami know tomorrow."

As she gets ready for bed, she turns Asami's words about friendship over in her mind. _"That's what friends do, right? They support each other."_ For some reason the words bother her, make her wonder. Asami had lots of friends at her boarding school, girls she shared living space with and probably knows as well as she knows herself. But for Korra, "friends" has always meant people with whom she could spend time and have fun.

She realizes, for the first time, that she has never had a very deep friendship with anyone, to the point where she had to support one in any significant way. She has never received support from anyone, except perhaps her father, and even he has not always been accessible to her. Asami has been her friend for a long time, but they never talk about problems in their lives or in society. Maybe that is why Asami is ignorant of Equalism—should they have talked about that?

What of the fact that those boys are victims of their own kind? That undermines much of her perception of the power imbalance between benders and nonbenders. But even if there are more than two clean-cut sides to the conflict, that does not change her belief in Amon's principles.

Maybe she was wrong about all benders being bad in nature; but the boys' fate also proves just how brutal benders _can_ be, inflicting pain on benders as well as nonbenders. Knowing what happened to Mako and Bolin's parents only gives her more reason to work among the Equalists.

Korra knows she cannot date Bolin. Even if she got used to being around benders, her father will never approve of her marrying one, so he will not likely let her date any. But she would like to be friends with the boys, and strengthen her friendship with Asami if she can.

She smiles, gives up searching for excuses, and lets herself look forward to their next meeting.

* * *

Artwork: "behind this mask is you" by colorfusionable on DeviantArt

Music: "Simple" by Angie Miller. It describes Korra's situation in this story, as well as Amon's life in both this story and the canon.


	6. Heaven On Their Minds

_Published September 29, 2015_

"Heaven On Their Minds"

* * *

"Human beings can't see anything without wanting to destroy it, Lyra. _That's_ original sin. And I'm going to destroy it. Death is going to die."

"Is that why they put you here?"

"Yes. They are terrified. And with good reason."

He stood up, and so did his dæmon, proud and beautiful and deadly. Lyra sat still. She was afraid of her father, and she admired him profoundly, and she thought he was stark mad; but who was she to judge?

~ Philip Pullman, _The Golden Compass_

* * *

The Equalists have been carrying out vigilante justice for years, mostly underneath the police's radar. They usually sabotage triad operations and defend nonbenders targeted for extortion. Thus, Korra's first several missions consist of reconnaissance carried out in plainclothes during the day. She and others gather information to add to the Equalists' ever-changing, ever-expanding network of knowledge: where the triads draw their lines of territory; which businesses and individuals cooperate with the gangsters, whether on friendly or hostile terms; and which individuals are in danger. It is important work, even if it feels mundane; but the most maddening part is not being able to step in when she actually sees gangsters threatening people. In public, in daylight, they have to leave intervention to the police.

But at night, the rules are different.

Shortly after the double date, Korra finally graduates to nocturnal missions, in uniform, in the field. A seamstress helps alter a factory-made uniform to fit her comfortably. She feels a little silly at first, but also strangely powerful, like a ninja in the old stories.

The night of her first mission, she changes into the buglike uniform and reports to the Lieutenant whose name she can never remember, along with three other Equalists. Korra does not know who they are; anonymity between comrades is safer, in case any of them are caught and asked to identify other Equalists.

The Lieutenant briefs them. "The Terra Triad has not received their 'insurance' money from Kong's Bakery. The deadline was today, but they didn't come. We want eyes on every entrance to the bakery and the apartment above it."

It is a small task, at least in comparison with the kind of plans Amon is making for the city's future, but Korra has to start somewhere.

She ends up perched on the fire escape, where she can see the windows and side door of the bakery. Another Equalist is on the other side, while two others are on the roof, watching the back and front of the building.

Korra stays quiet, but inside she is full of excitement, thirsty for action and a chance to prove herself. For a long while she sits with tense muscles, ready to jump down from the landing and burst into action. Every time a car's headlights pass by she thinks, _This could be it_. But after about half an hour she relaxes, accepting that this might take a while.

After several hours of listening to the usual sounds of nighttime in Republic City, Korra begins to think this might be no more interesting than recon. In fact, it is more boring, since she can usually pretend to be shopping or doing some errand while scouting an area; here she can only sit and wait in the darkness. She can't even talk to the other three Equalists as they sit perched on the roof, the back of the building, and side opposite of Korra. It is good that she is a night owl anyway, or else she would be likely to fall asleep, it's so late …

It is after midnight when the Equalist on the front-side roof makes a sound like a owl's hoot to get their attention.

They are coming.

This is it.

Korra jumps soundlessly down to the ground, and peers around the corner of the building. In the light from the streetlamps, she can recognize a couple of the thugs whose mug shots and records she studied during her training. They are walking, with no noisy vehicle to announce their arrival. One of the Equalists from the roof comes down the fire escape and stands behind Korra. Then he—or she—passes her something: a bola. Time to see if all those practice throws were worth it.

The Terra Triad gangsters cry out when they feel the impact at their ankles and lose their balance, then grunt when they hit the ground. "What was that?"

"I dunno!"

"Durn booby trap!" One of them raises his voice, and is actually getting back up, apparently having cut himself free. "You wanta mess with us, Kong? Then you asked for this!" He stomps on the paved road, and is just pulling back when the four Equalists spring out of the darkness on each side of the bakery.

The thugs they tripped up manage to break through the bola's bonds with pieces of pavement that they bend into sharp edges. There are three gangsters and four Equalists, so two of Korra's colleagues tackle the biggest one while she and the other each fight one-on-one.

Fighting—truly fighting, not sparring or simulating a battle—feels both familiar and foreign. Korra has stood her ground against bullies who used bending, but their intentions were usually to show off or scare, sometimes to hurt, never to kill. But this earthbender levitates blocks the size of her head, and aims them directly at her masked face; only her practiced nimbleness saves her from a concussion, or instant death.

As she dodges and moves in closer, something about her mindset changes—maybe it is instinct taking over; somehow she knows how to react to one move and anticipate the next one; she knows how to reach in and jab her attacker's limbs, cutting off his earthbending. His surprise when this happens gives her a chance to deal some offensive blows, but he tries fighting with his bare hands, and then she sees how strong he really is. She is grateful for all the sparring sessions she had with her father: he alone prepared her for the hard contact between opposing forces. The punches hurt, when they do make contact, but she now knows how to move around his flying fists and stab the right pressure points, until he loses his balance and collapses.

They are too out of breath, one with the wind completely knocked out of him, to do more than curse at their attackers. When Korra steps up to them, they actually try to crawl away. Her mouth forms a smirk that they cannot see. They are truly afraid of her. Kids and teenagers have looked at her that way, but seeing that kind of fear on the faces of adult men is even more deliciously satisfying. Her greatest satisfaction comes when she deals a blow that knocks out her original opponent.

They find three small bombs, one in each gangster's pocket, as well as some expensive items: a pocket watch, a silver case containing an assortment of (probably illegal) medicines, a shaving kit with silver instruments and mirror. They take everything except the drugs, and leave the unconscious, trussed-up bodies on the street corner, where they know a police car is due to pass by within an hour.

Riding her borrowed motorcycle back to the tunnels, Korra exalts in both the adrenaline from the fight and the feeling of racing on such a small, fast vehicle. This is why she joined, to make a tangible difference. They are like secret heroes, defying the law in order to bring true justice. She impulsively revs the motorcycle, producing the loudest noise she has made all night.

"What are you, stupid?" one of her comrades shouts.

"Lighten up!" she retorts; nothing could ruin her good mood—

Then they hear the sirens.

Some cops on patrol must have heard her, because a police car emerges from a side street and stays on the small team's trail. Now all four of them accelerate. At this time of night, the streets are mostly empty, but not entirely.

Two of them take out gas canisters and toss them over their shoulders, creating a fog behind them that startled the cop and makes the police car swerve.

"Let's split up!" Korra's critic shouts when they come to an intersection. Korra and another cyclist go left while the other two go right. They can hear a crash, and then the siren stops. The cop must have crashed. Good.

Korra and her partner take the backroads to the nearest tunnel entrance (they memorized the system many weeks ago). Once they have debriefed, and turned in the gangsters' personal effects, she changes into street clothes and stores her uniform in one of the hundreds of lockers. It is only when she jogs back to her apartment building that she starts to feel sore in the spots where the earthbender hit her.

Once inside, Korra goes up the stairs two at a time, panting as she gets to the top. She is used to intense workouts, but even so, tonight was her biggest physical challenge yet. She tries enter the apartment quietly, but this proves to be unnecessary: Noatak is still awake, working at the kitchen table, which is covered with blueprints, letters, and drafts of speeches. He looks up when she comes in, and after she closes the door he asks, "How did it go?"

The moment the door is locked, Korra turns to him and exclaims, "That was the most fun EVER!"

Noatak cannot stop himself from laughing. For all her skill, she is still a child, or at least has a child's sense of joy. "I was listening to the police scanner," he says, tossing his head toward the device that Hiroshi Sato gave them. "I wondered if you passed anything unusual on the way home."

Korra's voice is casual as she doffs her coat and hangs it up on a peg. "A triad bombing got busted, and I think a cop car crashed during a chase."

"I take it you're not hurt?"

"No …" Korra rolls up her sleeve, which she now sees has traces of blood on it. Bruises are forming on her upper arms. "Maybe a little," she admits. "Do we have any ice?"

While she cleans her cuts at the sink, Noatak takes a chunk from the icebox and wraps it in a towel for her. He used to do that for her fairly often when she hurt herself. Korra used to hide scrapes and bruises from neighborhood scuffles, but now he smiles when he sees them, more proud than sympathetic. She smiles back, her teeth gritted in pain, but feeling the same kind of pride. These are true battle scars. They show she is a fighter, not just because of who she is, but because of what she has chosen to do.

As he passes her some small pieces of cloth and tape for bandages, he tells her. "I'm proud of you."

It is the first time he has ever said that to her. He has said "You should be proud" when she mastered new material, or joked "You must be proud" when she did something unorthodox or unsatisfactory. But now, hearing that _he_ is proud of _her_, Korra feels like she has been given the greatest gift in the world.

When she is reasonably patched up, she stands and hugs him. Though she started it, Noatak holds on tighter and longer than her. Even though he misses being able to hold her entire body against him, he likes being able to put his arms all the way around her, and feel her arms around him. He has felt her form change as she has grown; now her body can create, carry, and care for life; she is almost more woman than girl. He considers these changes clinically, wondering if others will notice, and what that will mean for her.

* * *

The Equalists' activities reach a high point as Amon prepares to officially begin the revolution.

He gathers all the volunteers together to inform them that there will be a special event, a Revelation, at which he will tell the general public about his goals and his method for achieving them. An enormous warehouse is procured, big enough to hold a thousand people. Inside, they build a stage and hang banners with the Equalist insignia and a portrait of Amon.

Amon has one item on the agenda that Korra finds strange: he wants at least four triad benders of various elements present at the Revelation, and is sending out a special unit to abduct them. Amon decides to target the Triple Threat Triad, since it includes benders of three different elements; they can fill this strange quota in a single trip. He makes it clear that they ought not to be hurt too severely—for some reason he wants them to be able-bodied for the Revelation.

"Why do you need them?" Korra has the chance to ask this when they are safe in the apartment; underground, no one questions Amon's plans or instructions.

"We need a few benders to witness the Revelation, so the word can spread throughout the city."

"What's the big secret?"

"Korra, I'm trying to treat you the same way as the others. Only the Lieutenant and a few captains know about it."

She waits before venturing, "Can I volunteer for that mission?"

He laughs. "The assignments are already settled. You _will_ have one guard duty shift, once they've been procured. Then I need you to deliver fliers from the factory to the various protest locations. Once that's done, you can report back to help us set up."

She pouts. "None of that sounds very exciting."

"I'm sorry if necessary preparations bore you. We all have to do our part, whether large or small. And you have a good thing to look forward to when it's all done."

"D'you mean the Revelation, or the revo_lu_tion?'

"Both, I suppose."

So Korra does as he says. She gets a good look at the Triple Threat gangsters during her shift at the underground prison. They are restless, as well as confused, angry, and frightened; two of them try repeatedly to get information out of Korra and the other guards who pass by, but to no avail.

The fliers serve as a passcode, a fairly easy one for people determined to find the event. Indifferent passersby who take one flier will miss it, but those who are genuinely interested in coming will take enough to notice the different images on the backs and piece the map together; and they are likely to keep at least one flier, which grants them entry to the warehouse. It is not foolproof, though: all it would take is one undercover cop to sneak in and blow their cover. But Amon does not seem concerned about the possibility of infiltration at the rally. "The city will find out about this sooner or later," he says indifferently when Korra asks about it. "In fact, I'm looking forward to them finding out."

It is only an hour before the rally, when Korra and other uniformed Equalists are rushing around behind the scenes, that the Lieutenant calls her over and says, "Amon wants you on the stage when it begins."

"What? Really?"

"He was very specific. Said he wants you at his right hand." She can see his eyes looking at her through the goggles, part of his distinct uniform. "I don't suppose you know why?"

She smiles behind her mask, but merely shrugs for an answer. Inside, she is glowing with pride and excitement.

She does not see Amon until half an hour before the program is supposed to start. When he arrives at the warehouse, everyone pauses to acknowledge him. His words to them are simple, but to the point: "The Revelation is upon us, my brothers and sisters." They clap or quietly cheer before resuming work.

With ten minutes left, they take their positions under the stage. Somehow Amon singles Korra out from the others. He speaks to her in a low voice. "Are you ready to make history?"

"Are you kidding? I was born ready."

His eyes and his tone soften in a way that lets her know he is smiling behind his hard, painted mask. "In the ranks, we call each other brothers and sisters; but there's only one Equalist I can call my daughter. And I'm glad she's here to see this."

She is smiling too as she says, "She's glad to be a part of it."

He squeezes her shoulder―this is not the right time or place for a real hug―and they assume their positions beneath the stage.

Before the platform they are standing on begins to rise, an announcer booms over the loudspeakers, "_Please wel_come … _your he_ro … _your sav_ior … A_MON_!" His choice of words makes Korra wonder: how many people are indebted to him? One thing she does know, though, is that no one owes him as much as she does. It is thanks to him that she grew up safe and loved, became the person she is, and can now serve this glorious purpose.

The crowd cheers in welcome as the platform lifts Amon, the Lieutenant, Korra, and the other chi-blockers up to the stage.

Amon waits for them to quiet down before he takes the microphone and begins his speech. "My quest for equality began many years ago. When I was a boy, my family and I lived on a small farm. We weren't rich, and none of us were benders. This made us very easy targets for the firebender who extorted my father." This is the most Korra has ever heard him say about what his life was like before she entered it. "One day, my father confronted this man, but when he did, that firebender took my family from me."

Korra is startled. He has mentioned so little about his family, but she remembers him describing his mother and talking about camping with his father. He never mentioned anything like this. He was an orphan? Like her? But late enough that he knew them, remembered them, and felt pain from losing them?

She tunes back in to focus on her father's speech. "I came to the United Republic because I had heard it was a center of harmony, a place where people could live in peace. But here I found the same power imbalance that exists everywhere else in the world: benders subjugating and oppressing non-benders. The late Avatar Aang might have argued that bending brings balance to the world, but he would be wrong. The only thing bending has brought to the world is suffering. It has been the cause of every war in every era. But that is about to change."

Yes, Korra thinks, because they are about to start a war without bending. This war will be caused by their lack of bending. (Or does that make the cause of war the same?)

"I know you have been wondering, 'What _is_ the Revelation?' You are about to get your answer."

Behind her mask, Korra rolls her eyes at how he is drawing out the suspense. He enjoys being dramatic, and he is milking this moment for all it is worth.

"Since the beginning of time, the spirits have acted as guardians of our world, and they have spoken to me. They have chosen me to usher in a new era of balance. They have granted me a power that will make equality a reality. The power to take a person's bending away." There is a pause—just long enough for Korra to think, _Every chi-blocker has that ability—_before he emphasizes: "Permanently."

Every spectator in the room gasps. Korra feels frozen. She wonders, though not quite seriously, if he has crossed the line from fanaticism into madness. Maybe the stress of all this planning pushed him over the edge?

For the first time in her life, she has an instinct to protect her father, from embarrassment if not outright hostility. He has dozens of Equalist militia to protect him from the crowd if necessary, but only she knows him personally, and only she would have the nerve to cross the stage and urge him to back down.

"Now, for a demonstration." The guards begin to lead the gangsters onto the stage, and Amon introduces the first. "Please welcome Lightning Bolt Zolt, leader of the Triple Threat Triad, and one of the most notorious criminals in Republic City."

The crowd jeers and boos at the old man, who looks at them with contempt but not fear. "Ah, boo yourself!"

Amon tells the crowd, "Zolt has amassed a fortune by extorting and abusing non-benders. But his reign of terror if about to come to an end. Now, in the interest of fairness I will give Zolt the chance to fight to keep his bending."

Korra knows better. It is not really about fairness. It is about putting on a show. Amon has a real flair for drama, which usually makes Korra laugh or roll her eyes, but now makes her stomach twist.

Zolt is already in a stance, facing Amon head-on, confident to the point of being smug. "You're gonna regret doing that, pal."

Korra keeps her mouth shut but cannot help jumping back a little, seeing the flames come at her father. Is that uniform fireproof? But he dodges left and right, weaving his way closer to Zolt, who suddenly switches from fire to lightning. She has heard about lightning generation, a subtalent of firebending that has grown more common in recent decades, but she has never seen it herself, and certainly not up close like this. She cannot help being afraid—her father is only human—

But he makes it to Zolt, and pushes away his arm with an ordinary block, forcing the lightning up and above them. The electricity disrupts the spotlights, makes them flash and flicker as Amon ducks behind Zolt, forcing the man's arm behind his back. Ignoring the lightning still shooting from Zolt's free arm, he grasps the back of the firebender's neck, and then raises a hand dramatically before pressing it to Zolt's forehead. The two of them are still for a long moment; then Zolt's electricity is replaced by a final blast of fire into the air; then nothing. Amon raises his hand, releasing Zolt, who falls forward on his stomach.

Amon takes a step backwards and clasps his hands behind his back, as though surveying his work. Zolt tries to push himself up and turn around, but when he punches out in Amon's direction, no fire spills out of his fists. The crowd gasps as he falls again, too weak to even carry himself. Zolt pants heavily, looks up at Amon and wheezes, "What—what did you do to me?"

"Your firebending is gone. Forever."

Korra gapes behind her mask. It is true. But how, when, and where did he learn to do that?

Amon faces the crowd and thunders victoriously, "The era of bending is over. A new era of equality has begun!"

The crowd cheers, and Korra has to stop herself from applauding automatically; it is unbecoming of an Equalist. She is part of this show, too. She has a part to play. So she unties the waterbender and pulls him up to his feet, before the guard next to her pushes him forward. The waterbender and earthbender they captured do not have their elements available, so they make fools of themselves trying to fight without their bending, something they clearly have never attempted before. They are much more fearful than Zolt, after seeing Amon defeat him so easily. They similarly collapse under his hands.

Korra has never seen her father like this: cool, efficient, dominative. It gives her a chill, despite the sometimes sweaty uniform. He is punishing bad people, benders who threaten and extort and mug regular people, who bribe cops to look the other way. He is executing justice, right here.

And his words indicated that this is only the beginning. This power changes everything. It means that he really can change the world, more than any army could.

This is the future.

Once he has removed each gangster's bending, Amon returns to the microphone. "My ability is the crux of our movement, but it is not the only necessary part. I owe many thanks to the courageous men and women who have joined my cause. If political and economic equality is to be achieved, we will need the support of every nonbender. Anyone who wishes to volunteer their time, resources, or abilities should see one of my officers before leaving this warehouse. And when you do leave, tell all the nonbenders you know about what you witnessed tonight. I will not swear you to secrecy. The day is coming when we will no longer have to operate in secret, because the tyrants who oppress us will have been deposed."

Even though they have talked before of opposing and changing the government, Korra senses that a line has just been crossed. Vigilante justice may be a crime, but this is different. This is treason, pure and simple.

It is almost impossible to assess whether this knowledge bothers anyone in the crowd. They cheer when Amon leaves the stage, and some stand in line for hours to join. Korra and the other Equalists stay to take down everyone's contact information and arrange appointments for interviews and background checks.

After the hall is finally empty of spectators and supporters, they still have to clean up, leaving no evidence that the Equalists used the facility. Korra helps take down the posters, and finds herself studying them with new eyes. Now she understands the symbolism of the yellow and red sunbeams arranged around Amon's outstretched hand. His hands will change the world, bringing light like a new sun rising to chase out the darkness of bending.

She takes a couple posters home, to tape up in her bedroom with others she has collected. She is more nervous than usual as she walks home. The same unit that abducted the gangsters will have already returned them to their wrecked hideout, but she does not have to fear them anymore. She is more afraid of the police who, by this time, may have gotten word of the seditious assembly. She looks over her shoulder frequently, not wanting to lead anyone to Amon's dwelling. The whole time, she replays the program in her mind, and wonders at what it all means.

Everything is going to change.

This is good—wonderful—the best thing that could possibly happen for the world. So why does she still feel uneasy? Because it will be a hard fight? Because it might be dangerous? Because her father is setting himself up as a public enemy?

They have always thought of themselves in opposition to the tyrannical bending government, but the idea of openly declaring that opposition, and turning that conviction into action, makes her feel excited in a liberating way. It may be dangerous, but she tells herself it will be worth the risk.

She races up the stairs of their building, and is quick to unlock, enter, and lock the door before calling out. "Dad?"

He comes out of his bedroom, now dressed in pajamas. He is grinning, satisfied, proud, and triumphant. "I think that went rather well," he says casually. "What do you think?"

"What do I _think_?" She marches up and punches his arm, half joking, half truly indignant. "How could you keep that secret from me?"

"I wanted it to be a delightful surprise."

It _should_ delight her, she knows that, and yet **…** the idea that he could have secrets this important is unnerving. Between the two of them, a "secret" has always meant a surprise, something that would be revealed in due time. She supposes this is the same thing, only on a larger scale, since it will affect so many people.

"How do you do it?

He makes a sound like a sigh, but he is still smiling, in a way that says she cannot understand. "I can't explain it, Korra. Sometimes the spirits speak to us in ways that words can't adequately describe."

"How'd you learn it, then? Do you meditate or something?" She has seen people sit immobile in Republic City Park, and her old martial arts teacher said that he practiced meditation. She never understood the point of it. She knew how to control her breathing—that was important in exercise—but she has always had too much energy to sit still and focus her mind.

"It took years of trial and error. Someday, I'll try to explain it to you. Right now, it's enough to know that I'm the only one who can do it." He looks at her, and she looks at him, still rather bewildered. "Are you all right? Are you tired, after all that work?"

She smiles, laughs a little. "I don't know what to say. This is … beyond anything I imagined." She realizes that, despite his claim to the contrary, she has always regarded this Equalist movement the same way she regarded their volunteer work. They did not give food to the hungry because they thought they would eradicate starvation and poverty; they did it because they wanted to help, even if it was not enough. Now, they can reorder the whole social structure—not just the government and economy, but society itself.

Is it even possible? They cannot stop benders from being born in the future. She supposes that Amon could visit newly discovered benders to equalize them. He is going to be more than a leader; the entire revolution, the new world order they bring in, will depend on him.

She has never felt so awed by her father, or more afraid for him. It is more important now than ever before that he stays safe and his double identity is kept secret. But right now, he looks more pleased than she has ever seen him before. He wants this, for himself, for her, for their people, and for all people.

She shakes her head, trying to mentally articulate how much she is feeling. "Before I joined up, I didn't realize how passionate and … hopeful you were, about all of this. And since I found out, it's grown so much. I guess what I'm trying to say is … I'm really happy for you."

"You are sweet." He kisses the side of her head and pushes her gently toward her room. "Get some rest. I'm going to need you now more than ever. This is just the beginning."

* * *

Nothing changes right away. Of course, the only people who try to spread news of Amon's power are the former benders they release, but none of them try to contact the police or the press. It becomes a rumor, slowly spreading from the city's underbelly to the people of the lower class.

The biggest change is the amount of recruits. Dozens of non-benders, from as young as fourteen to as old as seventy, ask to be trained, or at least allowed to help however they can. The few wealthier hopefuls offer financial aid, and those with powerful friends offer to lobby for political favors.

"Maybe I should be a youth coordinator," Korra suggests over breakfast. "When kids want to join, I'd have them make fliers or something."

He smiles but shakes his head. "We can't spare the manpower for a youth group right now. But maybe someday."

She hears people whispering about it in the library foyer, some hopeful, some fearful, all of them nervous and excited. She has to stop herself from smiling when she hears bits of conversation before they prudently lower their voices. She wants to show solidarity with the ones who seem intrigued, and promise retribution to those who are afraid.

This attitude changes, not because of anyone she hears talking about it, but by the visit of a peculiar library patron: a girl in a yellow and orange uniform, the same color but very different design than any Air Acolyte robes Korra has seen before. The girl looks no more than ten or eleven years old. She seems to have a chaperone, a white-haired, bespectacled woman in the usual Air Acolyte attire for women. Besides the clothes, what stands out about the girl is her expression of awe when she sees the rows of bookshelves.

"Can I help you?" Korra asks, sticking to the protocol.

The girl looks at her, stares for a moment longer than might be normal before answering. "Um, yes. Can you show me where history books are kept?"

Korra points her in the direction of the nonfiction floor. "The children's and adults' sections are labeled. Let me know if you need help finding anything."

"Thanks!" The girl jogs off, and her elderly chaperone follows.

Almost two hours pass by before they return to the front desk, carrying over a dozen books taken, Korra notices, from the adult section. "Did you find everything?"

"I found a lot that I wasn't looking for," the girl answers happily.

"Oh. Good." The girl uses Master Tenzin's library card, just as his other followers have, and watches with fascination as Korra stamps the card and books with their due date. After a moment Korra says casually, "You look a little young to be an Air Acolyte. You're not one of the airbenders, are you?"

"Yes, actually, I am." The girl's tone is matter-of-fact, almost humble.

"Wow." Korra does not know what else to say.

"I don't go around the city very much," the airbender says. "Usually one of the Acolytes gets books for me, but I wanted to see the library for myself."

"So you're the one who eats up all the biographies and historical fiction?"

"Yeah … I like reading about things that really happened."

"I guess I can understand that." Korra tries to do what she always does, putting the due date slip on top of the books and pushing the pile across the desk. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." The airbender takes up the stack, and looks at Korra for a moment longer, as though about to say something; then she just smiles in lieu of saying goodbye, and leaves with her chaperone.

The interaction leaves Korra feeling strangely numb, and wondering about things she has never even considered.

What will Equalization mean for children? What will it mean for the airbenders, few as there are? She knows that the Air Nomads were a peaceful people, with no military. Noatak taught her enough about bending to know how to combat each kind, and she knows airbenders do not even have any offensive fighting techniques.

He is out late that night as Amon, so she does not have a chance to ask him until breakfast the next morning. She tries to sound only casually interested. "Dad? Are you going to equalize _every_ bender?"

"That is the plan."

"Even the airbenders?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He looks at her. "Why not?"

"But why bother? There are only four of them in the world and—"

"What's this sudden affection for the dying breed?"

_Breed?_ Korra bristles at such a callous word, but she ignores it and tries to explain. "I just know that the Air Nomads were always peaceful, and three of the world's four airbenders are just kids. That seems like a hard thing to go through when you're that small." She does not say what is really bothering her, that it seems unfair to take it from children who prove to be harmless.

"Children are resilient. You and I both lost our families at a young age, and we turned out alright, if I do say so myself. In fact, they'll be better off losing their bending early rather than later in life."

"What do you mean?"

"They won't have the chance to build a career on their bending, so they won't be losing as much as adults who have." Korra had not even thought about that—all the pro-benders and public servants and laborers would be out of jobs. Noatak goes on, "In any case, it wouldn't be fair to let airbenders go on bending when benders of the other elements no longer could. Former benders would accuse me of favoritism. It would only make the airbenders feel more special, more entitled."

He is always so logical, sounding so sensible and sure of himself. Unlike her, he thinks things through and plans everything thoroughly and carefully. Who is she to question him? (Come to think of it, she is probably the only Equalist who can question Amon without retribution.)

The phone rings, and Korra goes to answer. It is Asami, who has patiently and respectfully waited for a whole month before calling, since Korra said she would be busy for a while. "How about that match?"

Korra feels torn, as though her apprehension has solidified like ice and is on the verge of cracking. It is almost as though, like Amon and Noatak, there are two people inside her. The fun-loving teenager wants to go out, but the pragmatic Equalist knows better. "I can't really spare the money …"

"I'm treating all of you. Bolin had the idea that we could make dinner at their apartment before the game, because it starts pretty late at night."

Since the Revelation, Korra has been trying hard not to think of Bolin. She cannot help pitying the two bender boys. Of all the girls they could have met, they had to meet two with Equalist affiliations. That is bound to spell bad news for them, regardless of how they use their bending. She does not want to act like their friend, knowing what is going to happen to them, what they are going to lose.

But maybe seeing the match will help remind her of what they are going to end: the idolizing of people with unnatural abilities, the glorification of violence, the corruption of the sports industry.

"Korra?"

"I'm here."

"Well, what do you say?"

She makes up her mind. "Okay, I'll go. What can I bring for dinner?"

* * *

Music: "Heaven On Their Minds" from _Jesus Christ Superstar_ by Andrew Lloyd Webber


	7. Why Can't We Be Friends

_Published November 1, 2015  
_

"Why Can't We Be Friends"

* * *

I don't think I'm ready to do this and I don't know why. Or rather, I do know why, but I can't look at it too closely right now or I know it will change everything. Everything.

Outside the door, Xander waits for me. It strikes me that this symbolizes what is wrong here. No one can ever really come in, and when it's time to let them in, we don't know how.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

~ Ally Condie, _Matched_

* * *

On the day of the match, Asami picks Korra up in the afternoon. The two of them go grocery shopping, which is routine for Korra but a novelty for Asami, who has eaten meals cooked by professional chefs her entire life. Mako actually prepared a list of groceries, as if he and Asami are a married couple. Korra directs Asami to the best stores and market stalls, and shows her how to compare prices and identify the items of best quality.

With a few hours left before the match, they are able to snag a parking spot just a couple blocks from the peninsula that holds the golden Pro-Bending Arena. Korra has passed by it and seen it from a distance plenty of times, and more recently she studied a blueprint of it in preparation for a future mission; but she has never been inside the beautiful building. It looks too fancy for such rough-and-tough, down-and-dirty activities as sports, let alone bending.

Bolin is waiting for them on the steps, and runs down to meet them. "Gooood evening ladies!" he says, grandly stretching out each word.

Korra manages a smile. "Hi, Bolin."

"Do you want help with those?"

"I'm fine," Korra says truthfully—she has handled much heavier burdens than this—but Asami hands him a bag, even though the help is unnecessary.

As he leads them into the building, Asami nudges her and whispers, "He was trying to be nice."

"Oh. Sorry."

Bolin leads them up into one of the towers in a corner of the building. It turns out to be a lot of stairs, which kind of explains the offer of help. While Bolin chatters about the Arena and the upcoming match, Korra wonders what her father would think if he knew she was visiting some boys' place—a bachelor pad, by definition. She decided not to mention it, hoping that he had forgotten about the invitation to see a match with these benders. He might have agreed to her witnessing the sport, just once, but going where these boys live is putting herself in a situation that would make a normal girl vulnerable. But, Korra reminds herself, she is not normal; she is an elite rebel, and this is an opportunity to spy on enemy territory. Besides, Asami would be visiting them here in any case, and she will be safer with Korra accompanying her.

Near the top of the tower, Bolin leads them up through an open hatch door in the floor of the apartment. The air up here smells like sweat, lacquered wood, and some kind of incense, freshly burned. Mako is standing in front of a sort of stove, one of the few pieces of furniture. Two ladders lead up to a sort of loft that wraps around the upper perimeter of the room. The walls seem to be almost entirely made of windows, showing the bay in the southwest, the city in the northeast, and the sky all around.

Mako smiles when he sees them come in. "Hey sweetie." His greeting is gentler than Bolin's, but also more genuine. Mako kisses Asami on the cheek and nods to Korra. "Thanks for bringing all this. I've got a menu all planned out—"

Something reddish-orange moves across the wood floor toward the girls. Bolin scoops it up and cradles it for them to see clearly. "Ladies, this is our mascot and beloved friend, Pabu. Pabu, these are our guests, Korra and Asami."

"Hello there!" Asami coos, petting the small animal's back.

"Hi." Korra glances at Bolin. "Can I hold him?"

"Sure!" Korra is glad to be able to interact with Pabu and distance herself a little from the others. Tonight, she wants to focus on anything besides the boys and their bending.

Mako glances between the girls and the little kitchen furniture that is available. "So, um, we don't have much work space, but we've got a stove, an oven, and a sink. I can set out a mat or something to put the food on."

Korra surveys the area and nods. "Okay, we can work with this."

She is glad for the first activity they do together. There is something about making, serving, and consuming food and beverages that alleviates awkwardness. Or maybe she is just glad to have something to focus on besides the people she should be talking to. It beats sitting awkwardly and struggling for conversation.

Cooking is something she can do without thinking too hard; her practiced hands know what to do. But in this new environment, she has to ask what tools and ingredients are available, and where they are kept. She argues with Mako, the only other person here who cooks regularly, about the best spices to use for komodo-chicken soup. Asami looks to them for instruction, having rarely, if ever, attempted to cook before. Bolin cuts the dough into funny shapes before wrapping them around the meat and vegetables. "Don't play with your food," Mako says, in a tone that could be either joking or scolding. They make much more food than they can eat for one meal, enough to have portions left over.

They eat on the floor, around a table that is actually just a wooden board set on cinder blocks and covered with a tablecloth that looks like it may have once been a curtain. Set on the table are mismatched plates and bowls, and a single lit candle on a saucer in the middle. "It's nothing fancy," Bolin admits, looking a little bashful.

"I think it's charming," Asami says.

"Yeah," Korra agrees, though to herself she thinks it looks like a child's attempted setup of a romantic dinner.

The sun sets while they eat, casting an orange glow on the city and through the windows. "Wow," Korra says when she turns around to look out the window situated behind her.

"I know," Bolin says. "Great view, huh?"

"This is almost like a tree house," Asami says, leaning back on one arm and looking at the open windows. "I had a friend at school who built one at her home in the Earth Kingdom. I guess this is the urban equivalent."

Pabu scurries from one diner to the next, begging for scraps of food.

"So, you excited for your first match?" Bolin asks Korra, sounding excited himself.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I made this chart to keep track of all the teams." Bolin takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it on the floor, displaying a diagram that looks like a family tree growing in two directions. Korra scoots over to get a better look as he points to the branches with teams' names. "There are two preliminary matches tonight. Red Sands Rabaroos versus the Pinnacle Palace Platypus Bears, and then the Black Quarry Boar-q-pines versus the Bau Ling Buzzard Wasps."

"What team do you root for?"

"Normally just the Fire Ferrets, but since we didn't make it, I root for the Boar-q-pines."

"So, what's the object of a match?"

Mako explains, "To gain as much territory as possible in each round. Whoever wins the most out of three rounds wins the match. But if a team knocks all of their opponents off the back of the ring, then they win automatically, no matter which team was in the lead."

"Are there limitations for what they can do?"

"Water and fire blasts can only last one second at a time. Water- and earthbenders can only take their element from their own zone. No one can aim earth or fire at an opponent's head. Also no ice, fog, or lightning."

"Do people get hurt often?"

Her three friends exchange glances and shrugs. "Sometimes," Bolin says.

"Not often," Mako counters.

"At least, not seriously," Asami clarifies. Korra shifts her sight between them skeptically. "Okay, about as often as people get hurt in regular boxing, or mixed martial arts," Asami says finally. "It's intense, but it's not supposed to be brutal."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, at least until I see it for myself."

"Trust me," Bolin says, "you'll be glad you came."

Asami gets up. "Come on, let's go get our seats."

She does not let the others hear the price of the tickets, but they must be pretty expensive, because when she distributes them Bolin takes one look and whistles. "Up front and center! Nice!"

"You didn't have to do that," Mako says, and for a moment Korra sympathizes with him. If it was awkward having a friend who was rich and could pay for everything, it must be harder to have a girlfriend like that. Not that a boy should always pay for dates, but taking turns or splitting costs would be more equal, and in Korra's worldview, equality is what makes positive symbiosis possible.

"Don't mention it," Asami says with her easy smile. He murmurs a thank-you as they go through the gate into their section. The rows of seats are dark, but there is light ahead of them, in the center. Their eyes adjust as they make their way to the front row, and Korra finds herself gaping as she gets a better look.

The Arena's interior is huge, rimmed by bleachers, windows with intricately patterned panes, and spotlights. The playing field, an elongated red and blue hexagon, rather small compared to the building that houses it, stands raised in the middle of an enormous pool of water. The light reflects off of the glass ceiling, making it too bright to see the night sky through it, though the architectural beauty is not lost.

Korra lets out a single, involuntary syllable: "Whoa."

"I know, right?" Bolin lowers his voice to whisper confidentially, "Though I still think our locker room had the best seats in the house." He points to the boxed-off room at one end of the rectangular building.

"This is more amazing than I imagined!" Korra surveys the rows and rows of spectators, wondering what it would be like to have so many people cheering for you, and imagining how that felt for Mako and Bolin, two orphans who had been treated as though they were worthless. She can understand, now, why they would choose to play this sport, despite everything she knows it to be—corrupt, aggrandized, sensationalized.

The radio broadcaster, Shiro Shinobi, makes the opening announcements over the building's amplification system. People across the United Republic can hear those words. It is dramatic, building up excitement, in a way almost comparable to the Revelation—but Korra abruptly decides not to think about that. This may be the only chance she has to ever see a sport that involves bending, so she resolves to simply drink it in.

The two teams come out on platforms that bring them from their respective locker rooms to the playing field. Finally, after the teams line up in position, the announcer says, "Round one!" a bell clangs, and the action begins.

_Now_ Korra remembers why this sport once interested her. It looks as fascinating, and probably feels as exhilarating, as dancing or martial arts. It is, she supposes, technically a martial art. Strange that she never thought of bending as an art; to her it has always been just a weapon. There is power and strength in both their bodies and the elements that follow them.

When the first round is finished, she turns to the boys and asks, "Can you guys do all that?"

The brothers exchange glances, their only answers knowing smiles. Korra remembers the prohibitions Mako listed, and reasons that they can probably do a lot more than what she is seeing now.

Having gotten used to watching the whirring elements, she can now pay closer attention to who is gaining ground. She feels the suspense, and though she does not know which team to root for, she cringes when players get hurt, and boos when they make foul moves. It is hard to know who to cheer for, since they are sitting right along the line between the two teams' fans. The ones on their left cheer for the Rabaroos, while the ones on their right cheer for the Platypus Bears.

The Rabaroos win the second and third rounds, securing the match. Korra cheers along with their fans, choosing to favor the winners.

Bolin really lights up when the second match begins. "Here come the Boar-q-pines!" he says excitedly, touching Korra's arm with one hand and pointing with the other.

Now she is completely emotionally invested: she groans when they move back, and applauds when they move forward.

They each win one round, so a tie-breaker is called. Asami explains, "That means they flip a coin, and the winning team chooses what element will face off one-on-one."

The Buzzard Wasps win the coin toss, and choose fire. The two teams' firebenders step into the circle at the center of the hexagon, which then rises up as its own platform, severely limiting their space. Korra feels more on edge now than she has all evening. At such close proximity, with so little space in which to move, someone is bound to get burned. She briefly wonders how her three friends can stand this, remembering how their parents died; then the bell clangs, and both players are punching with fiery fists, ducking and dodging and kicking. Then they actually make direct physical contact, the Boar-q-pine trying to tackle the Buzzard Wasp. They grapple and spin doggedly and try to out-maneuver, and the Buzzard Wasp proves good on the defensive, pushing his opponent almost to the edge of the circle; but the Boar-q-pine kneels and brings the other down with him, flipping him off the platform, over the hexagon, and into the water with a splash almost as satisfying as Shinobi's proclamation:

"KNOCKOUT!"

"Whoo-hoo!" Korra is on her feet, along with her friends and most of the people around them. Bolin holds up his hands and double high-fives her, before bumping fists with Mako.

The commotion lasts several minutes, as people marvel at what just took place and speculate what will come next in the course of the championship tournament. While they wait for the aisles to clear out, Bolin turns again to Korra. "So, what'd you think?"

"What did I think?" Korra's voice comes out sounding higher than she intended. "That was amazing!"

Asami looks smug. "What did I tell you?"

"I've studied martial arts my whole life, but I've never seen bending like that—controlled and dynamic—it's like a whole different style." Then she voices a thought she had while imagining how Mako and Bolin must have looked in the ring. "Think you can show me a few tricks?" This might be pushing the unofficial limit, but she has already thought of an excuse: learning how pro-benders fight could prepare her in case she ever has to fight any.

"_Ab_so_lute_ly!" Once they get into the hallway, Bolin grasps her hand and leads her against the stream of the crowd. Mako and Asami follow them through a side corridor to a threshold with double doors propped open. "This is where we work out," he says, gesturing for them to enter.

The gymnasium reminds Korra of the basement where she learned chi-blocking. There are balls, mats, nets, weights, and discs like the earthbenders used in the game. It is not like the clean gym at the Sato mansion, but somehow it feels more authentic, full of sweat and dirt, a place for the hard work that athletes both love and hate.

It is not empty: an elderly, muscular man is levitating some earthen and metal weights over to the side of the room. He casts an annoyed look at them. "What are you kids doing here?"

"It's okay, Toza," Bolin assures him. "They're with us. Is it okay if we use the gym?"

"Are you kidding? After I just cleaned up?"

"We'll put everything back, I promise."

"Ahg, fine." He leaves the room muttering, "Soon as I finish, it gets undone …"

"Don't mind Toza," Bolin says once the man is gone. "He's actually really cool. He used to be captain for the Boar-q-pines. Now he's the janitor."

Korra raises her eyebrows. "Talk about a demotion."

"I think he took the job to keep an eye on us," Mako says. "He was the one who set us up with the apartment, and helped us form our own team. He's a tough coach, but at least he got us in the ring."

"So, who taught you to bend?" Korra asks. "Before Toza, I mean."

Mako hesitates. "Well, um … a few different people."

"Did you have to take lessons? I know benders used to just train with masters, but there aren't many of those anymore."

Bolin scratches the back of his head, and he avoids eye contact with her for the first time since they met. "Not exactly. See … well, when we were homeless, some guys offered to teach us a little."

"That was nice of them," Asami says.

Mako shoots Bolin a look, but Korra cannot tell what is behind it. "What gives?" she asks.

"It wasn't exactly out of the kindness of their hearts," Mako says flatly.

"Meaning?"

"See … well … we used to know some guys in the Triple Threat Triad."

Both girls are taken aback, but Korra does not know whether to feel angry or smug."What? You ran around with criminals?" This proves that her original suspicions about them, and about benders in general, were correct all along. Maybe she ought not feel so guilty about deceiving them.

But Mako responds, somewhat defensively, "You don't know what you're talking about. We just ran numbers for them and stuff."

"What does that mean?" Asami asks warily.

"They used to fix pro-bending matches, and we'd collect the money people bet."

"But that's all in the past?" Korra presses, seriously doubting it.

"That's right," Mako says evenly.

"Toza saved us," Bolin explains. "The Triple Threats were bribing him to throw off the matches, but I told him, he shouldn't have to throw lose if he didn't want to." Bolin looks to Mako. "That was the day we rescued Pabu, remember?"

"I remember _you_ tried to rescue him, and _I_ ended up saving you from Mr. Fong's pythonaconda."

"Yikes," Korra says.

"Yeah, well, it was worth it, wasn't it?"

Mako chuckles. "I guess. So anyway, Bolin convinced Toza to stop throwing fights. He won his next match, and he defended us when the Triple Threats found out what Bolin had done. Then he offered to set us up with a place to stay, and even help us go into pro-bending."

"So we stayed and we've been living here happily ever since. And we _did_ have some time in the ring, which was fun while it lasted."

"I'm sure. Wish I could've seen it." She actually means it.

Bolin claps his brother's shoulder. "C'mon, let's show them."

"You just want to show off."

"They asked for a demo!"

Mako rolls his eyes but smiles, giving in. "Fine."

The girls move to the side as the brothers face each other in the center of the gym. Bolin bends several discs in a semicircle behind him, the way they would be in a match. Asami nudges Korra gently and says, "This'll be good."

Bolin imitates Shiro Shinobi's excited commentary. "The Bending Brothers are pitted against each other in the final face-off … and Mako makes the first move with a side punch! Bolin dodges, picks up some discs but Mako stays cool …"

Korra watches with the same fascination she felt during the match, only greater now that she is up close to the action. The boys often pant and occasionally smile; they clearly enjoy sparring, which reminds Korra of herself and Asami acting as partners. Bolin is light on his feet, waiting for the right moments to strike. When Mako cannot dodge a disc, he throws a fiery punch that breaks it into pieces.

Something _aches_ inside Korra, like wistfulness, an unidentifiable longing, and she does not know if it is because of the boys themselves, or their bending. For the first time since she was little, she wishes she could do that.

She has not thought this way in a long time, but she used to try to bend, at moments when Noatak was not looking. She thought she remembered being able to manipulate the elements, but whenever she tried, she produced no result. Now, she can _imagine_—and quite vividly—the sensation of bending, but she has no idea if it really feels that way.

Bending may not be either boy's _entire_ identity, but it is a significant part of who each of them is, and it hurts Korra to think that they are destined to lose that part of themselves.

This gloomy thought clouds her attention so that she almost misses the end: Bolin tackles Mako to the ground, but Mako manages to flip him over and push him away, adding more fire blasts to send him over the imaginary line. "And he's out, off the back of the ring!" Mako proclaims, finishing the commentary.

"You guys are amazing," Asami marvels.

Bolin shrugs proudly. "We do what we do."

Korra almost feels jealous—but not of bending, she thinks quickly, but of the attention, the recognition of their talent. She would like to be really good at something, to impress other people.

She goes up to one of the long-handled double weights that Toza just earthbent so easily, and squats to feel it. Heavy, but she _has_ lifted heavier loads.

"Korra—" Mako starts to tell her off, but falls silent as she manages to lift it up to her waist, then slowly up to her chest, until, finally, she pushes it up above her height. She pulls her lips back in a triumphant grin, her teeth clenched.

Asami applauds, and Bolin whistles in appreciation. "Not bad," Mako says noncommittally.

Korra lowers the weight, and shifts her incredulous gaze from Mako the other two, who know him better than she does. "What's it take to impress this guy?"

"What? I said 'Not bad'."

Korra gives him a pouting look. He meets her gaze evenly, then shrugs and shakes his head with indifference. Korra turns to Bolin. "Here's a question: how much can you lift _without_ bending?"

Bolin looks as though he has never thought of it before. "Huh. Only one way to find out." He spits on his hands, rubs them together, then grips the bar tightly, straining before he even begins to pull it upward.

Mako watches and says, "Don't hurt yourself," starting to smirk when Bolin grimaces, the bar just at his chest. It stays there for a moment, his hands and forearms trembling; then he manages a few inches higher, before jerking his arms up just above his head; then he lets it crash down to the floor.

"Not bad," Korra comments, echoing Mako.

Bolin looks at her, panting, arms akimbo. "You talk about bending like there's no effort involved. But there is. A _lot_."

She chuckles. "I'm sure."

They fill a bucket of water from a tap (meant to provide waterbenders with practice equipment) and splash the water onto their sweaty arms and faces. Inevitably, they end up splashing each other, first by accident and then with clear intent, until they are all wet and laughing. "Next time, you guys should come swimming at my house," Asami says.

_Next time._ Korra is afraid to think about whether there will be a next time. It sounds so improbable to her, and yet so tempting, if tonight is any indication of how it would go.

But how much might happen between this get-together and the next? She was lucky to get this particular evening off. And while Noatak might accept her excuse of watching Asami while visiting the boys' home, there would be no need for Korra to keep an eye on her.

This entire evening has been more fun than she has experienced in years. It even rivals her first Equalist mission. She feels just as alive now as she did that night. She wonders, now, when she was more free to be herself. In a mask she didn't have to worry about keeping up a facial expression or maintaining an identity. With these teenagers, she has to keep up a front, and yet their activities are so innocent, so creative and different, that being with them feels freeing in its own way. She does not know if it is the normalcy, or the companionship, or the activities, but whatever it is, she likes it.

When they go back up to the apartment, Asami suggests making more tea. Korra takes a seat on the sofa, and Pabu comes up to her, hoping for more petting. Korra interacts with him while her friends chat and brew the drinks. Mako and Asami bring theirs up to the loft, while Bolin carries two cups over to the table before the sofa. "Thanks," Korra says, accepting it and starting to drink.

"Hold on!" Bolin motions to her to stop; she dribbles a little on her chin, then wipes it off with the back of her hand. "Sorry, I just wanted to suggest a toast."

"To what?"

"To … our finding each other again." He holds out his cup, and Korra taps her own against it, and they take a swig at the same moment. The tea tastes bitter in her mouth; she does not know if it is the herbs or her own guilt.

Pabu leaps up onto the sofa, curling up in the space between the two humans. Korra is glad to be able to pet him and avoid Bolin's eyes.

Bolin puts his cup down and looks at her. "So, as much as I love this group thing, I was kind of hoping maybe next time, you and I could go out and do something, just the two of us. Sort of a—dating situation," he trails off suggestively, looking hopeful in a cool, nonchalant way. Korra does not know what to make of that look. But she does know what her answer has to be.

This has to stop. She has to draw a line. What Bolin is asking for is something exclusive, something intimate. Something she cannot give. Not to him. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Because before that ever becomes a feasible possibility, she will have to betray him. Bolin is going to lose his bending, and she is going to help, at least indirectly, to make that happen. She feels a sudden, painful sensation, like a spasm, remembering the way his face lit up in the gym. He is going to lose that joy, or rather, the thing that brought him joy at that moment.

But there are other things that can make him happy. Like his brother, and his pet fire ferret. Bolin is so sweet, some girl is bound to fall for him. And he has Mako to make sure he finds a girl that deserves him. Unlike Korra.

She is not very good at words—those are her father's weapon, not hers—so she thinks very carefully before responding, trying to be gentle. "Bolin, I don't want to hurt your feelings. You're a great guy, but … I just don't have room in my life for … that kind of relationship."

"Oh." Bolin lowers his gaze. "Okay." There is an awkward pause before he ventures, "Still friends, though, right?"

Their eyes meet, and Bolin still looks hopeful, in spite of the distance Korra is putting between them. Against her better judgment, she smiles and says what she wants to say: "Sure."

"Good! 'Cause you're—quite honestly—the funnest girl I know."

Korra blushes a little, and curses herself for it, even as she smiles shyly back at him. Pabu curls against her thigh, and she is spared from talking much by petting him.

Mako and Asami come down from the loft. "Korra? You want to bring home some of the food?" Mako offers.

"Sure." She gets up and follows him to the kitchen area. Asami stays with Bolin by the couch; she must have turned down the leftovers, probably because she knows the others need the food more than she does.

As they divide the food and clean up the kitchen supplies, Mako speaks quietly to Korra. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing."

"You do?" Korra blinks in surprise, and then furrows her brow at him. "Why?"

"Bolin's been really excited over you. If you don't feel the same way, then you're right not to get his hopes up."

"Um … thanks … I guess." Mako may mean to make her feel better—and in fact, hearing that Bolin likes her makes her feel flattered—but she also feels bad, knowing how disappointed he must be.

Bolin gets up to say goodbye to the girls, but he opts to stay up in the apartment while Mako walks them back down. Korra gives Bolin a quick hug, the best apology she can manage. "Take care of yourself," she says, the closest thing to a warning she can give him.

"Yeah, thanks. You too." He manages a small smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and then turns away before they have left the room.

Mako walks the girls down to the front doors. "Thanks again for coming."

"Thank you for having us," Asami says warmly. Then she glances at Korra.

"Yeah, it's been a real pleasure." She cannot make those words sound genuine. Asami saves her by distracting Mako with a kiss and a promise to see him again soon. He waves goodbye before going back inside.

At the bottom of the steps, Korra turns back to look at the Arena. It is even more beautiful at night, illuminated by electric lights, glowing green and gold against the navy night sky and sea. The sight makes her stomach ache as well as her heart; or maybe she had too much to eat before.

What will happen to the Arena when bending is no longer allowed, or even possible? Maybe it would house more rallies like the Revelation. It is certainly equipped to serve Amon's theatrical style.

Asami touches her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." Why is her voice choked? She clears her throat. "This was a lot of fun."

"Yeah, I thought so too." Asami continues to look concerned as they walk back to the car. "What happened with Bolin?"

"Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen."

"What went wrong? I thought you guys were getting along."

"We were. Bolin's sweet, and I like him, but …" Korra tries to think of a good excuse that would not suggest any intention to see him again. "He's not my type."

Asami shoots her a skeptical, teasing glance. "You have a type?"

"… I don't know." Korra doesn't have enough experience to judge how much she likes him, or how much she should like him at this point. What if he is her "type" (whatever that means)? What if she does like him the way he likes her, only she is not giving herself the chance to find out?

When did she get so soft with those boys? She knew from the start that they were supposed to be rivals. When she first agreed to meet them, she thought of it as going undercover among enemies. That was what she considered them, until she got to know them. Her own perspective changed, but Amon's goals are the same as they have always been. She was stupid to think that she could be friends with people on both sides of the war that is about to start.

That is what this will be: a war. Hopefully a war without bloodshed, making it markedly different from all the other wars in history. But war of any kind requires sacrifices, some of them involuntary. It might be painful, but if it is for the greater good …

Asami's voice pulls Korra out of her melancholy thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you prefer being on your own?"

Korra looks at her, surprised and not entirely understanding. Seeing her confusion, Asami elaborates. "It's just—when we were little, I stopped other kids from gossiping about you. I never judged you because you were home-schooled and didn't seem to have any friends. But you do seem kind of … solitary."

"It's not like a choice I make, if that's what you mean. I'm not antisocial. That's just … how things work out, most of the time." She is independent, for sure, but not a loner. Not lonely. Is she? She has never thought very introspectively about herself. "I do like hanging out with you. I didn't realize it, but I missed this."

"Well, now that I'm done with school, I'm free pretty much any time. So if you want to hang out, just the two of us, I'd be glad to."

"I'd like that." An idea occurs to her when they reach the parked Satomobile. "Could you teach me how to drive? My dad says there's no need, since we don't have a car, but I'd still like to know how." She can already drive a motorcycle and the tram in the underground tunnels, but she has not had a reason or opportunity to drive an ordinary car.

Asami brightens up at this. "Sure! We can use the Future Industries test track. Why didn't I think of that?" she muses. Korra can tell she succeeded in getting her excited; there is nothing quite like sharing your passion with someone. She learned that when her father finally shared his life's work with her. She is glad that she can still invest in this friendship without regret … except for keeping the secret of her Equalist activity. After tonight, she can almost understand why Hiroshi has not told Asami about the movement: she would not understand it, and would probably misjudge them for being part of it.

Korra resolves that next time she sees Asami, she will talk to her about Equalism. Of course she cannot admit to being part of the movement, but she can try to help her friend prepare for the way things are going to change.

* * *

Artwork: "Suspicion" by Jackie-lyn on DeviantArt

Music: "Why Can't We Be Friends," originally recorded by War, though I prefer the cover from _Bridge to Terabithia_ (2007)

Between these updates, I discovered and watched _Abducted: The Carlina White Story_, based on the real life of a woman who was kidnapped as a baby, raised by her kidnapper, and later tracked down her parents on her own. I don't know whether pulpofiction knew of this when he/she wrote "dream of the lotus in bloom," but it is rather similar to both of our stories!

It occurred to me that maybe I should have had Korra's first mission earlier, before she meets Mako and Bolin. Then she would have had more time on real missions, instead of being a new field worker when the revolution begins. What do you think? Please let me know your thoughts in a review!


	8. The Prayer

_Posted December 23, 2015_

"The Prayer"

* * *

A part of me was hoping someone would wake up and hear, so I wouldn't have to live with this lie anymore. But no one woke up and in the silence that followed, I understood the nature of my new curse: I was going to get away with it. ~ Khaled Hosseini, _The Kite Runner_

* * *

The ring of the rarely-used telephone serves as a warning bell, not to be afraid, but to be alert. For years Tonraq and Senna thought they did not need such a device, but they eventually concluded that it would bring a measure of safety, allowing them to communicate quickly with other people in the tribe in the event of an emergency.

Tonraq answers the phone, but Senna pauses in her work to watch and listen to Tonraq's reaction. "Yes, this is … Oh. … I see. I'm sorry to hear that. … Was anyone hurt?" The words make Senna's insides feel cold. But Tonraq is not visibly frightened or worried, if she is judging his emotions correctly. "This afternoon? … All right. … Thank you, Principal."

The moment he hangs up Senna asks, "What is it?"

"It's not an emergency," Tonraq assures her quickly. "Damasak just got in some trouble at school."

"Oh …" There is some irony in the fact that such news, which would bring distress and disappointment to most parents, brings relief to Senna. "Oh, no," she amends, and Tonraq smiles wryly, sympathizing with her mixed feelings. "What happened?"

"It sounds like he got into a fight with some other kids. The teacher wants to speak with at least one of us. Will you take Hanami home while I stay to talk with them?" A man-to-man talk might be necessary.

"All right."

An hour later, they walk together to the primary school within the city proper. The building is small, with an average of only two teachers and fifty students in each level. Many families, especially in more rural areas, still prefer to teach their children at home. Senna and Tonraq considered this, but Damasak's pleading and Kya's advice led them to enroll their son, and later their daughter, in the public school. The parents and neighbors teach the children how to survive and live well, but the school teaches them how to be connected with the world.

While Senna goes to the courtyard to find Hanami's class, Tonraq goes inside. He finds Damasak sitting on a bench outside the principal's office. "Son?"

He looks up. "Hi Dad," he says tonelessly.

"Are you all right?"

"Sure. Just fine." He tosses his head in the direction of the door. "They're waiting for you. They said I could wait here."

Just then the door opens, and Damasak's teacher steps halfway out. "Tonraq, sir? Please come in." Seeing Tonraq's glance at Damasak, he explains, "We spoke with Damasak already, and he said he'd rather wait while we talk to you."

He follows the teacher into the main office, where the principal is seated behind her desk. "Please have a seat, sir."

"What's this all about?"

"Damasak got into a fight with his classmate, Chibok. It started as an argument, but both of them resorted to physical attacks."

"It may have been partly my fault," the teacher says apologetically. "I should have remembered, and maybe warned Damasak beforehand."

"Remembered what?"

"Every year I teach a unit about different forms of government, and I tack on a few classes about the Avatar. Of course history is full of their deeds, but this section focuses on the position, and the line of Avatars."

There is a pregnant pause. Wishing they were not so embarrassed for his sake, Tonraq presses, "How did Damasak react?"

"He mentioned that his sister was—er, is—an—well, the Avatar. That caused some confusion, and argument, but I called them to order. I think Damasak was embarrassed, but it didn't come up again until afternoon recess. I don't know what was said, only that it had to do with the same argument, and this time Damasak lashed out physically."

Tonraq cannot help thinking that if someone attacked his family's honor, he would rather hope that Damasak would defend it; but, of course, violence on the school playground is not the way.

"Damasak said Chibok started it, but he won't give us any details."

"What are the consequences?"

"The class is going on a field trip next week, to the Avatar Temple. We think Damasak and Chibok should sit this trip out, and write apology letters to each other. Each of them will also receive a demerit on his school record. A pattern or accumulation of demerits could, eventually, result in greater consequences."

"I understand. I'm sure this won't happen again."

Tonraq leaves the office and gestures to his son. "Come on. We need to talk."

Damasak stands and follows him silently. Tonraq waits until they have walked a fair distance away from other passersby before telling him what was decided. "You're banned from the school trip."

"It's just to the temple. I've already been there."

"What exactly did you do?"

"It was just some snowballs, and a water whip."

Tonraq raises his eyebrows, trying not to show his pride. Damasak initially had a difficult time when they taught him that move. "Really? How did your water whip go?"

"Well … first I hit him with it, then I kind of grabbed his wrist with it … he tried to turn it on me. I don't know how, but we got on the ground and were just wrestling when the monitors got the teachers."

Tonraq chooses his words carefully. "I'm proud of your waterbending, but that's wasn't the right time, place, or way to use it. It's the same with any martial art." They pause long enough to cross the icy street. Then he ventures gently, "There's something else I think we should talk about: the argument itself."

At this, Damasak turns sullen once more, turning his face to look the other way as they walk. Tonraq sighs, not sure how to draw him out. "I know it's hard for you and Hanami, to hear about Korra when you've never met her …"

"That's not it, Dad."

"What is it, then?" His son's only answer is a scowl. "Damasak, you can tell me anything."

"No I can't. You'd ground me if I told you everything I think."

The shrewd statement leaves Tonraq somewhat bewildered. He wonders if he would rather not hear what Damasak thinks. Would the truth really hurt him? Or would it just be disrespectful on the boy's part?

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why'd you leave the Northern Tribe?"

The question catches Tonraq off guard. He cannot think of any connection to that sensitive topic and the one they have at hand. "It's not something I like to remember. But, I suppose you're about old enough to hear it."

"What is it?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me what you and Chibok said to each other?"

"Fine."

"I left the North because … I was banished."

Damasak stops walking. Tonraq turns around to find his son staring at him. "You were _banished_ from the North? Why?"

Tonraq gestures for him to follow, and only then does he explain, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk while Damasak's are fixed on him. "Twenty years ago, I was a general in the Northern Water Tribe, sworn to protect my people. One day invaders came and attacked our home. I drove them out of the city and deep into the frozen tundra. We tracked them deep into an ancient forest. Many believed this forest was the home to spirits, and the barbarians retreated there because they thought we wouldn't attack them on such hallowed grounds. They thought wrong." Tonraq pauses, trying to remember the details and filter the most important ones, and Damasak tries to picture it as he waits for the story to continue. "We captured the barbarians, but in the process, we destroyed the forest. I didn't realize the consequences of what I had done. By destroying the forest, I unknowingly let loose angry spirits. They threatened to destroy everything, the entire city."

Damasak's inquisitive voice breaks his reverie. "How did you stop them?"

"I didn't. Your uncle did. Unalaq knew how to tame the spirits—there's a waterbending technique that calms them down. He was able to guide the spirits back to the forest. But by then, the damage had been done. For being the cause of so much devastation, my father, the chief, banished me from the Northern Water Tribe in shame. That's when I came to the South and started a new life."

Damasak looks thoughtful, still pondering the story. "If Uncle Unalaq could control the spirits, why didn't he stop them before they made such a mess?"

Tonraq's instinctual reaction is to explain it away—_There were too many, it happened too quickly—_but then realizes his son has a point, one he never stopped to consider. "I … don't know."

"So, Uncle Unalaq became chief because you left?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you don't like each other?" Damasak only recently began to perceive his elders' moods during their family reunions.

"I … yes, that is part of it. He blamed me for not respecting the spirits … and it's hard for me, seeing him be the leader I was supposed to be." But that matter is quite far apart from the one they are supposed to be discussing. "You promised to tell me what was said."

"Does it matter?"

"Damasak."

His son glares at him, and then the full story tumbles out, swift and unsparing as an avalanche. "Chibok said his dad thinks you made up that stuff about Korra being the Avatar and being kidnapped, just to cover up the fact that you lost your own kid. Someone else said their parents remember Korra firebending, so she must've been the Avatar, but Chibok said the people in the Northern Tribe remember what you did, and some of them say you deserved what happened to Korra, and some say you failed all over again."

Tonraq can only stare, stunned almost beyond words. The rumors themselves are not new; he has overheard such talk and even harbored similar thoughts. What shocks him is that a child would repeat such things, and what hurts him is hearing them repeated by his own son.

Damasak's eyes are filled with tears, and anger, and—worst of all—shame. "See why I didn't want to say it?"

"Son—" Tonraq reaches for his shoulder, but Damasak steps away, glaring at him.

"I told him he was wrong, but I didn't even know the whole story. I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"I was protecting you from the shame I brought on the family."

"So, you just tell us all the good stuff about our family that hardly anyone knows about, and leave out all the bad stuff that everyone knows? It's _embarrassing_!" Damasak looks up at his father with a challenge in his expression. "Is Korra a lie too?"

"_What?_"

"Was she really the Avatar? Was she even real?"

It is too much. "Of course. Damasak, I may have kept things from you, but I've _never_ lied to you. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah." He believes that his father believes Korra was the Avatar. But he also sees that his father _wants_ that to be the truth, because it would give him something to be proud of after everything he is ashamed of.

When they make it back to the igloo, Hanami is helping Senna sort pieces of cloth for different projects. Her face lights up when she sees them, just like Korra's always did when she was happy. "Hi Daddy and Dammy!"

Senna smiles at Damasak, but looks to Tonraq with concern in her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Damasak kicks off his boots and says brusquely, "Depends who you ask." Then he goes to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Tonraq?"

He shakes his head. "I'll tell you later." They keep no secrets from each other, but he does not want to make her feel the way he feels now, does not want her to know what Damasak thinks and feels about them. "I want to go to the Avatar Temple."

"Can we come?" Hanami pipes up.

"No, sweetie, you stay and help your mother. It's easier if I go alone today."

Each of the nations has at least one temple dedicated to the Avatars. Everyone in Tonraq's family has visited the Southern Water Tribe's temple at least once. It serves a few different functions: a pilgrimage site, a tourist destination, and a memorial. Master Tenzin meditates there when he visits. Katara has said that she likes to go there because she can feel Aang's presence more strongly. No wonder: one of the rooms is filled with Air Nomad decorations and memorabilia, most of which belonged to Avatar Aang during his life. His glider and meditation beads rest on hooks protruding from one wall. On the shelf, a glass case protects a small whistle shaped like a bison. Paintings and photographs show Aang's growth from adolescent to man to elder.

For Katara and her family, every item here has a plethora of memories attached to it. Tonraq envies their collection of physical relics. Korra's kidnapper took everything that belonged to her. Sometimes it is hard to remember what she looked like; Damasak seems to resemble her, and Hanami even more so, but it could be that their past memories of Korra's face have blended with their present impressions of their children.

Tonraq uses spark rocks to light two incense sticks, and places them in a stand before the memorial. He kneels on the floor, but then feels at a loss for what to do. He looks at the portrait of Aang.

"I'm not good at this," he says helplessly. "I don't even know if you can hear me." As far as he can understand, the spirits of the dead have more awareness or information than the living, but they are not omniscient. If various legends and historical accounts are to be believed, the dead have some knowledge of affairs that have to do with them or their descendents. It might make sense for Aang to be able to hear Tonraq, because they both have a connection to Korra.

"Look, Avatar … Aang, if you can communicate with Korra, or help her in any way … please, show her the way home. And let her know that we love her, and we need her."

* * *

The dream is more vivid than any Korra has had in a long time. She is not sure whether it counts as a nightmare, though she distinctly remembers experiencing fear in the course of it. Someone was threatening her friends (who, she realizes upon waking, she does not even know) and hurting her body, and she could not move. But all the details—everything that made the events understandable—drain as she wakes up. But one detail sticks with her: a name.

Throughout the day, she forgets about it only to remember it at odd moments. Seeing an old-fashioned rickshaw in the street brings a jolt of recognition: in her dream there was some kind of chase involving a carriage, and she saw it from the pursuer's point of view. It is only after she leaves the library that she remembers the name, and realizes she could have looked it up at the library. Maybe next time, then.

At the end of the day she finds Noatak in the kitchen, a welcome sight since he has been working odd hours so many recent days and nights. She can never be sure when she will see him around the apartment.

As she looks through the cabinets for ingredients, she asks him, "Do you ever get certain words or names stuck in your head, and you can't figure out where you heard them or what they mean?"

"I may have experienced that. What word are you thinking of?"

"It's actually a name. Yakone."

He cracks the egg far too hard, and gets goo on his fingers, while half of the shattered shell falls into the bowl along with the yolk. Korra raises her eyebrows at his uncharacteristic clumsiness. When he turns to face her, she is startled by his pallor. "Where did you hear that name?"

"In—a dream."

He furrows his brow at her. "A dream?"

She does not understand his reaction. Is he skeptical, or suspicious? Why would he be either one? "I know it's weird. I can't remember hearing it anywhere else. I wondered if he was mentioned in one of our history books, or on the radio, when I wasn't really paying attention."

"Hm." He goes back to picking the eggshells out of the yolk.

Korra bends down to peer at his downturned face. "So? Do you know who that is?"

He purses his lips. "My understanding is … he was once a powerful criminal in this city. That would have been before I was born. Eventually he was imprisoned."

"What did he do?"

"I suppose he was like Lightning Bolt Zolt, in terms of notoriety. He was a waterbender, and he did horrible things to innocent people, all out of greed. He was the kind of bender we want to eliminate." His tone and expression turn somber, as though he is far away. "Power like that … can change you, in the worst ways."

The topic of benders reminds Korra of something else she wanted to ask about, but her father's odd change in mood makes her wait until they are almost done with their breakfast. Before she can bring it up, though, Noatak says, "I've been wondering if you should quit your library job."

"What? Why?"

He puts his chopsticks down, becoming less casual, more serious. "I want you to work for me full-time."

"But—what about the money?"

"Our finances are better than ever—but I guess I haven't fully explained, have I? You know I ask people to contribute whatever they can. Those who can contribute funds do so on a monthly basis, and I draw my salary from that. You could do the same."

"I … I guess. Yeah. I can do that."

"I thought you'd be happy. You were so eager to take on more numerous and difficult assignments."

"I am Dad. But …"

"What is it?"

"Well, I was going to ask if I could visit Asami. She offered to give me driving lessons. Do I have to ask for a day off to do that now?"

He does not answer right away. Instead he gathers their plates and brings them to the sink; he starts washing, and Korra takes a towel to dry each one he passes to her. It is their routine to alternate who washes and who dries, on the nights when they are able to eat dinner together; if one of them eats alone, they have to clean up alone.

"I think I'm going to have to say 'no'."

"Why?"

"You've been going out with your friends so much lately—"

"Twice in the past two months," Korra spells out. That might be a record for her, but not by much.

"I'm concerned your friendships might be a distraction."

"What's the big deal?" she wheedles. "It's not like I'm going out every night, or even every week―"

"What is this to you?" he interrupts, sounding severe. "Is it some game to give you a thrill, or an outlet to make you feel good about yourself, like you've done your good deed of the week?"

Korra is instinctively on the defensive, but cannot form a coherent rebuttal; she does not even know where he is going with this. He turns to face her fully, and his demeanor almost switches to that of Amon, passionate and dangerous. "Korra, this isn't some part-time job that you can keep distinct from your everyday life. This is my life's work. Soon equality will be a reality for every citizen, and from there the Equalists will only expand. From now on, I need every person's help. I need you now, more than ever."

She nods. "I won't let you down, Dad."

"Remember, this isn't about what you _want_. This is about what is _right_."

He is so confident in his convictions—his beliefs, his righteousness, his judgment. How can she doubt him? But then, how can he be so certain?

There is the fact that he can take away people's bending. He said the was a gift from the spirits, a sign of his mission, and a means of carrying it out. That makes sense.

Korra decide she will not let herself think about Mako and Bolin. They will lose their bending, but they will not be harmed—unless they try to fight the Equalists when that time comes, and Korra hopes they will have the sense not to. Hopefully they value survival over recreational ability. The latter may have contributed to the former, by giving them a stint as pro-benders to earn money, but they can find other jobs—Mako did mention the power plant—oh, but he would not be able to work there without firebending, without lightning generation.

Maybe, when the time comes, she can help them find jobs that do not require bending. In fact, if she is going to work full-time as an Equalist, one of them can take her post at the library. She can easily picture Mako organizing books, doing paperwork, and reading on the job. Bolin … he has the right kind of personality for getting people's attention and making them excited. Maybe he could get a job like Shiro Shinobi's, announcing news and commentating on sports. Or Asami, being her generous and accommodating self, could get them jobs in her father's industry.

Asami. What will she think, when all of this goes down? Korra remembers the real reason why she wanted to see her again, to talk to her about Equalism before she can get the wrong impression of it.

"Dad? There was another reason I wanted to see Asami again. I want to talk to her about Equalism. I think if I just explained it, she'd understand our side, and maybe even want to help."

He considers her seriously, thoughtfully, before finally nodding in assent. "Put in a week or two of work, then you can have a full day off."

"Thanks Dad!"

* * *

Korra quits her library job, and starts going to the warehouse and tunnels on a daily basis. She asks the Lieutenant for the kind of work assignments that she used to dislike the most, things like deliveries, guard duty, and scouting missions. She cannot operate when her resolve is faltering. They cannot afford the least hesitation. Any weakness has to be either remedied or rooted out. So she will do odd jobs until her resolve is stronger.

She gets the feeling that the Lieutenant does not like her; he does not know why Amon values her, a chi-blocker who has only been an Equalist for two years. He agrees to her request, but reminds her that as a fully trained chi-blocker she remains on the roster of volunteers who rotate missions. This means that, inevitably, she will have to take part in more direct encounters with benders. She will have to live with that.

These days, Amon himself goes in the field and equalizes criminals. When they are later arrested, word of Amon's ability gets to the police, and then finally to the press, who move from treating Amon's ability as tabloid trivia to a serious subject of political and legal import. The editorials are full of letters applauding and denouncing the Equalists; which ones get published depends on which side the paper leans toward; some are more willing than others to censor according to the government's agenda, while a brave few make a point of being the voice of the people rather than the government.

The police and the Council clash over who should have the responsibility of "dealing with" the Equalists. Councilman Tenzin insists that taking measures against non-benders will only aggravate them and cause more division; Korra feels a degree of respect for him, for recognizing that. Tarrlok ignores that minority opinion, and plays on the other council members' fears to gain support for his motion to form a task force whose sole purpose is to end the revolution.

Noatak clicks his tongue when they reads about it over breakfast. "Typical."

Korra looks at him. "What? Didn't you expect some pushback, once they found out?"

"I did, but it's just typical for him to be the one to push for it. He just wants a reason to build up his own power."

Since the secret is officially out, Amon takes another step out of the shadows: he starts sending out radio messages across the city, words of warning to benders and encouragement to non-benders.

Korra hears the first one at night, while folding laundry in the apartment's living room. She is startled when his Amon voice—so different from the tone he uses as his everyday self—replaces the jazz music. "Good evening, my fellow Equalists. This is your leader, Amon. As you have heard, the Republic Council has voted to make me public enemy number one, proving once again that the bending oppressors of this city will stop at nothing to quash our revolution. But we cannot be stopped. Our numbers grow stronger by the day. You no longer have to live in fear. The time has come for benders to experience fear."

His words make Korra think about the word _terrorism_. It is more than just politically-motivated violence, although that is part of it. The motive behind terrorism, in particular, is to make people afraid. And Amon just admitted that is his purpose: he wants the Council and all benders to fear him and his followers.

Korra remembers how smug she felt when she saw fear in the eyes of the gangsters she attacked, and wonders if Amon feels—or wants to feel—the same way on a larger scale. It is tempting … but making people live in constant fear … that just sounds wrong.

There is no way she can bring up questions like these with Noatak. Questioning his revolution when it is just picking up momentum—at the very least he would be hurt; at worst he would be angry and disappointed with her. He might even question her loyalty to the revolution. That thought frightens her. What would he do if he thought she wasn't loyal? Fire her from the militia? Punish her as an example to the others?

Korra huffs and crumples the shirt she was folding into a ball. Why can't she stop questioning everything? Why can't she go back to following orders? All that has changed lately is that she realized benders are human, and some are innocent, and some are even likeable. That does not change the fact that most of them abuse their power, which is in itself unnatural. She has to remember the fundamental truths that form the foundation of Equalism. She is not fighting for a person or a militia or a political faction: she is fighting for equality, for justice and peace. Plenty of people have had to fight and frighten in order to achieve those goals. When violence has been taking place for a long time, another surge may be necessary in order to end it. That is, after all, how most wars and eras of conflict end.

After a few radio messages, Amon makes a truly bold move: he demands that the Council cancel the pro-bending championship tournament and shut down the Arena, and threatens unspecified but severe consequences if they refuse. This ultimatum renews Korra's fear for the boys, but thankfully the Council agrees to comply, at least for the time being. When she is alone in the apartment, she tunes in to sports stations, and hears Shiro Shinobi and the Arena's owner, Butakha, talk about holding the final game after the Equalists have been "taken care of". Their foolish hope makes Korra smile, not smugly as she might have weeks ago, but sympathetically, almost sadly. There will never be another pro-bending match, at least not in Republic City. Bending will soon be obsolete, so, Korra tells herself, they should start getting used to it. For her part, she plans to help Asami get ready for it, or at least be open to the Equalists' ideology.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Acknowledgment:** My thanks goes to iruka-2013 for proofreading this chapter and providing advice!

**Music:** "The Prayer" by Celine Dion in _Quest for Camelot_.

**Artwork (updated to include new pieces):** I put out a call for artists to create character designs for Damasak and Hanami. A Tumblr user called hokalin or hokalinstag kindly took up the request. Unfortunately I forgot to mention that the characters were Korra's siblings, so their designs do not really resemble Korra or their parents. Next I asked eviechan68, who has drawn some amazing Makorra artwork and designed her own OCs, and she did a fantastic job bringing them to life: they look like their relatives and the drawings reflect their personalities quite well. Then my personal friend, who goes by a-little-rae-of-sunshine on Tumblr, made a watercolor painting of them. I cannot post the links here or on my profile page, but the pieces can be found on my Tumblr account and through an ordinary web search engine.

**Names:** I named Damasak after the town in Nigeria where Boko Haram kidnapped approximately 400 women and children in March 2015. His classmate Chibok is named after the town where Boko Haram kidnapped 200 women and girls in April 2014 (prompting the #BringBackOurGirls campaign). Hanami is a Japanese word for watching transient beauty; I thought that theme was applicable to childhood as well as elements of nature, and it kind of alludes to "Leaves from the Vine," which parallels much of this story.


	9. All I Ever Wanted

_This chapter's content was originally published as parts of the previous and subsequent chapters. Edited July 13, 2016.  
_

"All I Ever Wanted"

* * *

That evening left Marius profoundly disturbed, with a dark inner sadness. He was experiencing what the earth may experience at the moment when it is opened by the plow so wheat may be sown; it feels only the wound; the thrill of the seed and joy of the fruit do not come until later.

Marius was gloomy. He had just achieved a faith; could he reject it so soon? He decided he could not. He declared to himself that he would not doubt, and he began to doubt in spite of himself. To be between two religions, one you have not yet abandoned and another you have not yet adopted, is intolerable; this twilight is pleasant only to batlike souls. Marius was an open eye, and he needed a true light. To him the dusk of doubt was harmful. Whatever his desire to stop where he was and hold fast there, he was irresistibly compelled to continue, to advance, to examine, to think, to go forward. Where was that going to lead him? After having taken so many steps that had brought him closer to his father, he now feared to take steps that would separate them.

~ Victor Hugo, _Les Misérables_, translated by Lee Fahnestock and Norman MacAfee

* * *

When her day off finally comes, Korra takes the trolley to the Sato mansion, even though she knows the tunnel system would be faster. She has entered and exited the tunnels through Hiroshi Sato's workshop dozens of times, but it has been years since she visited the house or the racetrack. It feels strange coming back, older and bigger, and seeing everything more or less the same as she remembered, except that it is not as overwhelmingly large as it seemed when she was small.

Asami clears the racetrack of test vehicles and sports cars, and tries to demonstrate how to drive an average Satomobile. "I thought we could start out on the track, so you get a feel for controlling direction and distance. Then after lunch we can go on the streets."

Korra has a memory of Hiroshi racing a car on this track, while she and Asami were strapped in behind him. She remembers being scared, gripping her seatbelt and thinking they would not make the turn, but Asami had complete confidence in her father's ability to protect them and win the race. And he did.

Right now, the racetrack setting makes Korra want to experiment with speed, but this proves too disconcerting for Asami. "Just try going around at a normal speed, for one loop … then again at a slightly higher speed …"

They go back to the mansion to eat the lunch prepared by the Satos' cook. "This feels like old times," Korra says, grinning around a mouthful of gourmet noodles.

"Yeah." Asami smiles affectionately. "I missed this."

Korra moves to wipe her mouth with her hand, but then remembers the cloth napkin in her place setting, and uses that instead. Even though she feels comfortable with Asami, being in the Satos' luxurious home still makes her feel like she ought to be on her best behavior—not in a childish way, but in a respectful way. She wonders if the Fire Ferrets would feel similarly, or if they already have. "Do Mako and Bolin ever come here?"

"A couple of times. My dad gave Mako the grand tour of Future Industries."

"I've been wondering. You have other friends. Why'd you choose me to set up with Bolin?"

Asami shrugs. "I thought you guys were kind of similar. You're both fun to be around. And my other friends … well, they might like him for being a semi-famous athlete, but they might not really … understand where he comes from."

Of course. All of Asami's school friends come from wealthy families, except for a few on specialized scholarships. Even the few who live in the city must know little or nothing about the area the boys grew up in. Asami singled Korra out because she was the most similar to them in socioeconomic class.

She seems to read Korra's thoughts because then she says, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've—"

"No, that makes sense."

"You know that doesn't matter to me, right?"

"Of course." She smiles teasingly and nudges Asami. "If it did, we wouldn't have been friends for so long. I would've dropped you like an anchor if you acted snooty."

Asami's smile is grateful and somewhat relieved. "My dad warned me not to be that way. You've heard his whole 'rags to riches' story. And my mom was from an old family that went from rich to poor before settling in the middle class. They knew money isn't what matters. But I know that's easy to say when you have more than enough of it."

"Does Mako mind?"

She pauses, resting her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. "We haven't talked about it, really. It caught him a little off guard at first … or maybe that was just the moped collision …" They both laugh.

"That _is_ a cute story," Korra admits.

"Yeah—like fate made me run into him."

That sounds like a stretch to Korra. "You really think that?"

"I think things happen for a reason. Especially when people come into each other's lives and—change you, somehow. I don't know if you've ever had that experience, but I think when it happens, it's more than just luck or something."

"You sound like Bolin, the way he talked about me just happening to meet them again."

"I'm still trying to figure out what it is you like about Mako. Besides your romantic introduction."

Asami gives her an odd look. "What do you _dislike_ about him?"

"Nothing, really. If you get along well, that's great. It's just … I don't see that you have much in common."

"So?"

"Isn't it nice to, you know, have things in common with your significant other? That way you can do things together that you both like."

"There's pro-bending," Asami points out. "We all bonded over that."

"Yeah, but when the season's over, what do you have left?"

"We both lost our mothers at a young age. Again, something we _all_ have in common."

"Right. Sorry."

"Are you looking for something to not like about him?"

"Of course not!" It is only when the words have left her mouth that Korra realizes they are a lie. She tries to make up for it with a truth. "I'm trying to understand you, and him, and the two of you … I don't know what that's like." Korra realizes, for the first time, that she has never seen romantic love up close, never had an idea of what it is like. Noatak has never dated anyone, never mind married—he wouldn't have the time, Korra supposes, with the work he has. Some of the unfortunates they met at shelters over the years were victims of rape or domestic abuse—they had stories about dating and marriage that ranged from disappointing, to miserable, to horrific.

But Asami had two parents who loved each other, setting an example of domestic felicity for her to learn from, even if it ended too soon. She seems to understand, her intuition keeping up with Korra's thoughts again. She smiles again and says simply, "It's great."

"So are you guys, like, in love?"

Asami tries to disguise her giggle as a scoff. "Don't put words in my mouth! It's only been a few weeks—or a couple months, now."

"Hey, I don't know how these things work. How long does it take to fall in love?"

"I don't know. I've never had the pleasure. And it's not that easy to a label on a relationship. We're still getting to know each other. All I know is, I care about him and I like being with him."

"Well, that's nice. I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

The chef brings them a platter of dessert samples, and for a few minutes they talk about the different flavors and ingredients. Then Korra ventures, "Have you heard about the Equalists?"

"What about them?"

"I mean, you know who they are, right?"

"Sure. I couldn't believe it when the finals were cancelled because of them. It's one thing if you want to help people or make a statement, but taking away pro-bending isn't helping anything. In fact, it's probably causing more division."

"How so?"

"It's something benders _and_ non-benders bond over. Like how it brought the four of us together."

Korra refuses to let herself think about that anymore. "You know there's a lot more to the Equalists than that, right?"

"I've heard they want to change the government, and the socioeconomic structure."

"Do you think they're right?"

"They're right to call out inequality, but what they're doing to fight it seems wrong to me. It's all … so shady, the vigilante work and terror tactics, and threatening the Council and the championship contenders …"

"Well, I think if you spent a long time trying to work with the system and having it reject you, you'd probably feel like that was the only way to make yourself heard, or get anything done."

"You're defending them?"

"No … well, maybe … I'm just saying I can see why they'd go as far as they have."

"So what do _you_ think of them?"

Korra searches for an answer that would be not only safe but inoffensive. "Well … I think the only reason to be against them would be if you or someone you knew wanted to stay a bender. Objectively, though, I think … they have the right idea."

"Even about taking people's bending away?" Asami says testily.

"Like I said, it's whether you're subjective or objective. All wars—even the ones fought for the best reasons—cost something."

"That doesn't always mean it's worth it. No one should be _forced_ to pay anything in a war."

"You know, if there was no bending, there might not be any more wars. There'd be a lot less violence in general."

"I don't think that's true. Bending might have been an advantage in major wars, but there have been plenty of tribal and civil wars fought between nonbenders. So what they say about bending being the source of all conflict isn't true. Conflict and violence come from human beings, not the weapons they use."

Korra never thought of it that way. She will have to mull over it more deeply later. "So, you definitely don't support them?"

Asami raises an eyebrow at her. "You think I should?"

"I kind of thought you would."

"Why, because I'm a non-bender?"

"Not just for that. It's … you're all about progress, and that's what they're pushing for."

Asami raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking in a strange kind of smile. "I don't know if you skipped over part of your science or history curriculum, but bending has brought a lot of progress. Entire cities have been built using waterbending or earthbending. We use the elements to make energy—you know, hydroelectricity, steam, wind turbines, coal. Mako works at a power plant, making lightning to provide electricity for everyone, including non-benders. Both sides can do things to benefit themselves and the other side." She stops abruptly, and then shakes her head, sighing. "Oh, what am I even saying? There shouldn't _be_ sides. We're all people. Not all benders are bad, the same way not all non-benders are Equalists."

"You're making it sound like Equalists are bad. Maybe some are good."

"That's the problem. Some may believe they are good. I once read somewhere that the most evil people in the world are the ones who don't realize they're evil."

That sounds completely different from how Korra has always imagined evil people. Are good and evil just relative to one's point of view? Is there any set standard for measuring the moral quality of anyone's actions?

How can Asami think so objectively about something that affected her so personally? Is it not normal for people to change their opinions based on their experience?

"How do you do it?" Korra asks.

"Do what?"

"Act so … so …" The word _perfect_ comes to mind, but Korra pushes it aside, searching for something less condescending. "… gracious. You're honestly the nicest person I've met. I don't think I've ever seen you angry, even when you had a right to be. Is that a conscious effort, or just the way you are?"

Asami is silent for a moment, considering, before she speaks. "When I was in primary school, there was a kid who teased me and some other kids. I think it had to do with our parents being 'new money'—you know, earning wealth instead of being born with it. Anyway, he bothered me for weeks, until one day I got so fed up that I thew a pair of scissors at him."

"No kidding?" Korra is mildly surprised, but rather in a good way.

Asam grimaces. "The problem was, he moved out of the way, so they hit a boy who hadn't done anything."

"Oh."

"He wasn't seriously hurt," Asami clarifies, "but the fact that I'd tried to hurt someone got me in trouble."

"How do they handle that, at schools?"

"It depends on how old you are, and how many offenses you've made. I had never seriously misbehaved before, so I didn't get punished, but they made us apologize to each other, and called in our parents to tell them about it. My dad was kind of pleased that I'd tried to stand up for myself, but he said I should have done it differently, by going to the teacher. The worst part wasn't being punished at school or at home. The worst part was sitting down with my mom and hearing her say how disappointed she was in me. She said I should always be kind to people, no matter how they treat you."

"That sounds like … do nothing, even when people are hurting you?"

"No. My mom said you _should_ stand up for yourself, and other people, but you should never retaliate out of anger. That stuck with me. After she died …" Asami pauses, and Korra realizes this is the first time she has heard Asami mention the event itself. "At first I was just … shocked, and devastated, but later, I _was_ angry for a while. But I remembered what Mom told me, and I figured she wouldn't want me to be that way, especially not because of her. I guess that's why I don't get angry easily, or stay angry when I do. It started as a way to honor her, and now it's just kind of the way I am." She pauses again, and sees Korra's awed, slightly incredulous expression. "Do you think that's foolish?"

"I think it's idealistic … but that's not a bad thing to be." Amon is idealistic, too, in his way. Korra thinks she may be, too, to a certain extent. Sometimes it seems like a way to combat violence and hatred … but, she realizes uneasily, the Equalists' idealism seems to do the opposite.

After a long moment, Asami stands up. "Do you still want to try driving on the streets?"

"Uh, yeah. Hey, afterwards, can you drop me off at the library?"

"Sure. Are you working?"

"No, I don't—" She cuts herself off, not wanting to get into the topic of her new full-time job. "There's just something I want to read about." She might as well take advantage of the rest of her day off.

* * *

Korra knows how to navigate in Republic City on foot or on a motorcycle, but maneuvering a car is an entirely different experience. She frequently brakes too hard, jerking backward and forward. But, with Asami's guidance, she manages to drive to the library without crashing. "Thanks so much," Korra says as she gets out of the car.

"You're welcome." Asami goes around to the driver's seat while Korra steps onto the sidewalk. "Take care."

"You too."

Inside, Korra goes to an area that she used to avoid: the newspaper archives. The system of organization has been a work in progress for years. Currently, the newspaper articles are organized under a system using the phonetic alphabet, a relatively recent invention that corresponds with Morse code. She sounds out the name, "Yakone," and finds a file near the end of the alphabetic list. She brings it over to a table, and finds it to be full of decades-old newspaper clippings. The largest fills an entire front page with a bold headline:

_YAKONE EXPOSED AS BLOODBENDER, FACES OFF WITH AVATAR_

_Whoa_. As far as headlines go, this is pretty major. Korra knows what bloodbending is from her history lessons. She knows that it is extremely rare, and possibly the most dangerous and dastardly bending technique in existence. Looking at Yakone's reproduced mug shots, she thinks there is something familiar about his appearance, but she cannot think why that is. It is possible that she may have seen it before, but she thinks she would remember reading about this event in history.

As she reads the description of the trial, she can imagine it so clearly—in fact, she seems to remember more details of her dream, details she forgot upon waking. The angle from which she had viewed the room—a courtroom? The Council chamber? She can picture the lawyers pacing the floor as they spoke.

_Councilman Sokka delivered the verdict, announcing the Council's belief that Yakone possessed unique, exceptional powers that enabled him to go beyond the typical limits of waterbenders. Deciding to take his ability to bloodbend as fact, the Council found him guilty of all charges and sentenced him to life in prison._

_No sooner had the gavel rung than Yakone stood and exercised his now-exposed bloodbending, subduing the assembly and forcing Chief Toph Beifong to unlock his handcuffs. He then rendered most of the assembly unconscious, left the building, and stole a rickshaw. Avatar Aang recovered quickly from the attack, and followed Yakone on an air scooter._

_No witnesses were present, but when the chase was over, Avatar Aang had captured Yakone and removed his waterbending abilities. Yakone was subsequently taken to prison to serve his out his full sentence._

Korra is shocked by this ending. Avatar Aang took away people's bending? Someone besides Amon had that power? She had thought it was unique, something only a very special, probably spiritual non-bender could do, or would even want to do. Amon cannot be the Avatar—he is too old, since Aang died only seventeen years ago. Did he get the idea for equalizing people from Aang? That would be most ironic.

A later article reads, _YAKONE ESCAPES PRISON_. It mostly reports on the lack of evidence and leads. There is nothing after that. Apparently he was never found or seen thereafter. That is a frightening thought, that he could still be out there, like a character in a horror story told to scare people on camping trips.

Korra puts the articles back in the file. She has learned who Yakone was, but the new information has piqued her curiosity about the other people mentioned in the story, who may have been in her dream as well. So she puts the file back in its case and goes to the other end of the alphabet, to look up _Aang_ and _Avatar_. She wants to know more about this person and his position. Korra wonders, for the first time, how the existence of the Avatar might play into Amon's plan for equalization. Even though the Avatar has not been identified, he or she may still be out there, and even if Amon removes his or her bending, he or she will probably continue to be reincarnated as a bender of the four elements.

Aang's file is obnoxiously thick—for all his austerity as a monk, he seems to have been quite the celebrity during his lifetime. There are too many articles to look through, and Korra guesses most are just gossip, plus standard announcements like his marriage to Katara, the births of his children, and his death. Every decade or so, on the anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War, magazines published longer features about him, recounting his life up until that point in time. Apparently Aang learned how to take away a person's bending at the end of the Hundred Year War, when he used "energybending" to neutralize then-Fire Lord Ozai. Korra has heard of this famous duel, but somehow she always assumed Aang won it in fair combat. After all, he had the better part of a year trying to master the four elements, a smaller time frame than any other Avatar had taken to learn them; the stories always made it sound as though that was what enabled him to defeat the Fire Lord, not some the discovery of some spiritual gimmick.

The file labeled _Avatar_ is about a third of the other file's size, so Korra goes through it more thoroughly. There is a list of all known Avatars, starting, according to the calculations of astronomers and historians, approximately ten thousand years ago. Another list names the locations of Avatar temples in each of the nations. Then, there are articles from the past decade and a half about the search for the new Avatar following Aang's death. These mostly report failed expeditions and assurances that the Water Tribe leaders and an international organization called the White Lotus were doing everything in their power to find the Avatar. Korra thumbs through them half-interestedly, but then stops at an article dated thirteen years earlier. It is not the headline that catches her attention, but a word in the article itself: the characters for her name, Korra, **柯拉**. Out of curiosity, she reads the title:

_WHITE LOTUS IMPOSTER KIDNAPS ALLEGED AVATAR_

She begins reading more out of curiosity than anything else, but then finds she cannot stop.

_A week ago, a man impersonating a member of the White Lotus entered the home of Tonraq and Senna, a married couple in the Southern Water Tribe. Less than an hour later, he left the house with their only daughter and all of her belongings._

_The child, a four-year-old girl named Korra, was of the right age and nationality to be the current Avatar. Tonraq and Senna had, in fact, corresponded with the White Lotus to alert them of his suspicion that she might be the Avatar. Both parents testified that their child could bend earth and fire as well as her native element water_.

_The man who came to the family's home wore a White Lotus uniform, and introduced himself as Lee, claiming to have received the parents' correspondence. The proud parents welcomed him and proceeded to show him their child's prodigious bending abilities. "Korra had an entire routine planned out, to show how many elements she could bend," Senna later recalled. "She was excited to be the Avatar, and eager to start learning. We thought this man would help her."_

_Having confirmed the Avatar's identity, the man called Lee tried to convince the couple to send Korra to meet the rest of the White Lotus. "We became defensive and suspicious," Tonraq said. "We weren't going to let our daughter go off with a stranger. We wanted to talk about her future, not have it decided for us."_

_According to the couple's testimony, when they started arguing, they suddenly became dizzy, fainted, and apparently lost consciousness. When they awoke some time later—it may have been less than an hour, or perhaps several hours—they discovered that Korra was gone._

_They enlisted the help of their neighbors, waterbending masters Katara and Kya, who cooperated with the Southern Water Tribe's chieftains and police force to organize search parties for the child. Unfortunately, within a day they established that neither the man nor the child were in the city proper. Chief Sokka informed the White Lotus of the imposture, and requested their help in expanding the search._

_Though some White Lotus members remain skeptical of the Avatar's identity, the organization has agreed to search for the missing child, starting in the South and working their way outwards around the globe._

_Tonraq is the elder son of the Northern Water Tribe's previous chief. A gifted warrior and general, he was banished from his native tribe seven years ago after inadvertently prompting spirits to attack his home. His younger brother, Chief Unalaq, currently rules the North._

_Upon learning of the kidnapping, Unalaq offered his own resources to aid in the now international search. "I am equally moved by the fact that this child is my niece, as by the fact that she may be the Avatar," Chief Unalaq said in a rare press conference._

_Despite the shock and heartache they have suffered, Senna and Tonraq appeared adamant in their hope that Korra will be found. "I'm certain we'll see her again," Tonraq stated._

_Master Katara, who found Avatar Aang at the end of his hundred-year absence, agreed and added, "It's only a matter of when."_

By the time she reads the final words, Korra feels startled and shaken; she almost shivers, despite the library's warmth. She is not sure what to think. If these similarities—name, age, gender, time, and nationality—are just coincidences—that is a terrible amount of coincidences.

Growing up, she sometimes imagined finding her parents, either intentionally or accidentally. There was even a time when she was hyperaware of anyone she could easily recognize as Water Tribe, and glanced furtively at such people's faces, wondering if someday she would spot one that resembled her own.

She could, hypothetically, be this child, except that this child was, according to Senna and Tonraq, the Avatar. A bender. Which she is not.

Doubt gnaws at her from inside. No, something different from doubt—suspicion. She has a very dim memory of crying because she was disappointed that she could not bend at all. She does not remember what Noatak said to her, but she can imagine it, the kind of advice she has given her and his crowds of followers.

She _has_ carried memories of bending, but she always thought that they were long-ago dreams, like nightmares about killing people, doing horrible things, becoming something one fears. Or the kind of dream that inspires guilt upon waking, like a dirty, erotic dream. She pushed away those kinds of dreams, and eventually—usually—forgot them, until or unless something caused her to remember them.

Now, for the first time in over a decade, Korra wonders: what if those were not dreams?

It still seems impossible. If she were a bender, she would have realized it by now. The worst thing about bending is the fact that it cannot always be controlled; that is why bender children pose a threat to non-benders.

On the other hand, she was repulsed by bending at such a young age, and she has not tried it since. Come to think of it, is it possible to repress an ability like that? To bury it like a treasure, or a terrible secret, deep within yourself, so that even you cannot access it?

Words come to her mind before the actual decision reaches her conscience: _There's only one way to find out_.

Korra stands on shaky legs, goes to the bathroom, locks herself in the single stall. This is how bending feels to her: indecent. Or precious enough to not want others to see it.

She puts the toilet lid down and sits on it, trying to collect herself. How to start? She has water and air in this room—but firebending has always mystified her the most. It is the only element whose benders are not limited to its availability in a given environment: they _produce_ it, somehow, seemingly from within themselves. She should have asked Mako how he does it.

She cups her hands together in her lap, as though extending them to hold or receive something. She closes her eyes to concentrate, but then opens them, realizing she should look so as not to accidentally burn herself. Spirits, if Amon knew she was trying this, or even thought she was capable of it …

This is probably why she has never done it. She does not want to know.

And yet … she wants—some part of her feels a need—to know.

Korra pushes away her bad thoughts regarding fire, the thought of her friends' parents' deaths, her memories of burning buildings. She thinks about pleasant forms of fire, trying to picture candlelight and campfires. She starts to feel an almost feverish warmth in her arms, and then she holds out her hand, willing it—

A flame appears, and she can _feel_ it, but the sensation does not burn; it is more like holding something alive, a gentle heartbeat pulsing in her hand. Korra gasps, both in recognition of the sensation—she _has _done this before—and in realization of what it means.

She is a bender.

Her breathing becomes heavy, and both breathing and bending are suddenly harder; the flame sputters out, and she does not try to sustain it. She leans back on the toilet, trying to think clearly. She checks her hands, making sure they are extinguished, before pressing them against her head, her chest, her stomach.

She is a bender. A firebender. Like the men who killed Asami's mother and Mako and Bolin's parents.

She does not feel self-loathing, at least not as much as she might have if she had not met Mako and Bolin. Now she, too, is proof that not all benders are bad. At least, she does not think she is. But that may only be because she did not grow up bending.

Being a firebender does not necessarily mean she is the Avatar. She would have to be able to bend the other elements, too. The girl in the article was from the Water Tribe, so she would have been a waterbender by birth.

She only debates with herself for a moment, dreading what more she could learn about herself. But then again, now that she has started, there is no going back to ignorance, so she might as well go forward.

Korra clogs the sink drain with toilet paper, and turns on the faucet, letting the basin fill with water. She has dealt with this element far more often than with fire. How many times has she drunk a glass of water, prepared a meal with it, washed her hands with it, swam in it? Surely she would have noticed if she could bend it. But all of her sureness is gone now.

She raises a hand, holds it over the basin, and then brings her fingers together, trying to draw the water together—and a shape, too irregular to be called anything more than an elongated blob, rises up. It shakes just as much as her hand, but Korra keeps it airborne, and then reaches higher, and it follows another inch. Finally she relaxes, letting go of her intense concentration, and the water splashes down into the basin.

Korra has no idea how to bend air, and there is no earth nearby that she can bend, unless she goes outside, which she is certainly not ready to do. But she does not think she needs more confirmation.

She grips the sides of the sink, supporting her weight, and looks from her hands to her reflection in the grimy mirror. Her mind knows the person she is looking at is the Avatar, but all her eyes see is an anxious, bewildered, and—she might as well admit it—frightened teenage girl.

"What did you do?" Korra does not know if she is asking herself or Amon.

Korra wants to go home, to the familiarity and relative security of her apartment, and forget everything that happened in the past half an hour. But she also wants to look at the article again.

It takes her a minute to compose herself before coming out of the bathroom. She keeps her expression neutral, even though only a few other people pass through this area of the library. She sits down at the table and rereads the article, looking through the lens of her new knowledge. She is that girl. She is the Avatar. She is the daughter of two waterbenders named Senna and Tonraq. She was—kidnapped.

It was that circumstance, being separated from parents at the age of four, that made Korra think it could be her, but her mind pushed aside that circumstance to question whether she could be the Avatar. Now, though, it disturbs her just as severely as the rediscovery of her bending.

She has tried to imagine how it would feel to be a mother, and to be separated from her child. She has imagined her own mother giving her up reluctantly, regretfully, but ultimately of her own free will, knowing that her daughter would be better off being raised by someone else.

Now, Korra imagines having a child, being able to care for it, and having someone take it from her against her will, not knowing where it was, and never seeing it again. It is beyond her realm of experience, but she guesses it would be unspeakably painful. After nine months of anticipation, the pain of the birth, the joy of the arrival, and four years of living together, to lose her child without any knowledge of its fate—

Korra presses a hand against her mouth, willing herself not to cry, not in this public spot, and not when she most needs to think clearly.

Did Noatak know about her identity when he adopted her? No, he could not have. Why would he want the Avatar, when he is so opposed to bending? It must have been a coincidence … that the leader of the movement to eliminate bending would adopt the greatest promoter of bending …

Or was it _not_ a coincidence? Did he seek out whoever kidnapped her?

Or—the thought comes so suddenly and involuntarily that Korra is shocked by her own ability to create such a hypothesis—could he have done it himself?

_WHITE LOTUS IMPOSTOR_ … _introduced himself as Lee, claiming to have received the parents' correspondence_ …

No. She cannot believe that was him. Amon has authorized kidnappings in the past, but not of innocent people, just of criminals whose power he eliminated. She cannot believe her father would inflict that kind of pain on anyone. He is not that kind of person. He helps people.

There is no reason to think that Noatak is the one who kidnapped her. Whoever took her could have brought her to an orphanage, claiming she had just been found abandoned. That would match the story he has related, in bits and pieces over the years.

She cannot ask him about this—she cannot even imagine how she would bring it up in conversation—but she cannot pretend she has not learned anything. Maybe she can find evidence to verify his story—or disprove it, but she hopes that will not happen. She knows where he keeps their most important personal records, locked away in his room for safekeeping. He did not even keep their location a secret from her; that seems to indicate that he has nothing to hide.

Korra puts the clippings back in the file and the file back in its collection. She ignores the new receptionist's friendly farewell as she leaves the library.

When she steps outside, she steps into the alley between the library and the next building. She crouches close to the ground, touching the stone pavement. Just to be sure she is not mistaken in her identity, she taps the ground with her fingertips, then knocks on it with her knuckles. When that does nothing, she forms a fist and bangs it against the ground, and she _thinks_ she feels something—not movement, but a connection, like becoming conscious of something that was always present but never noticed. Finally, Korra pulls back her fist, and punches down with enough force to break her fingers—but instead the force goes through the stone, and a rectangle of pavement pops up a few feet in front of her.

She does not know how to feel about this confirmation, but however she feels about it, she can no longer harbor doubt about one point: she is the Avatar, and she has to deal with it.

On the way home, Korra catches glimpses of the gargantuan statue on Avatar Aang Memorial Island. She wonders what it means to be the Avatar. She considers the myriad social problems that exist, all the tragedies she has read about in the newspapers over the years, in Republic City, the United Republic of Nations, and the whole world. Is she the person who is supposed to be responsible for ending all of them? Does she have that much physical power? Would she have that much political power?

Being the Avatar … _might_ be a good thing, if it means she can make up solutions to problems and people would do what she told them. But do they still respect the Avatar that much? Will they respect her just because of her title, or her (as yet unmastered) powers?

Korra thinks of the many Equalists who held out hope for a new Avatar and gave up that hope after the sixteenth anniversary of Aang's death. They chose to put their faith and hope in Amon instead.

It would be selfish to keep the knowledge to herself. But she cannot reveal herself publicly without drawing attention to her adoptive father. Even if his identity as Amon were kept secret, their being in the public eye would still endanger the Equalists.

She has a strange thought: if she can have such a powerful role in world affairs, maybe the revolution is not necessary. If she has the necessary political and physical power, maybe she can change the government and make peace between benders and non-benders herself.

The sun is setting when Korra gets home. She finds a note from Noatak on the table: he will be out late, so she should not wait up for him. Part of her is glad, because she does not know if she can face him now, when she feels so clouded by doubt; the rest of her is disappointed, because she wants to start cautiously approaching the subject as soon as possible, to put her mind and heart at ease. Then again, can they ever be at ease again, after learning who she is and what she can do? Even if things do not change, she can no longer think about herself, her father, her parents, or the world in the same way as before.

She makes a frugal meal, and saves a portion for Noatak to eat when he gets home—if he bothers coming home tonight. He has spent entire nights working, and even keeps cots available in the tunnels for himself and other Equalists to take naps between shifts.

She feels too tired to be productive, but too restless to sleep. After washing up and brushing her teeth, she stays in the bathroom and tries bending again. She makes the water slosh in the basin, and manages to pull a little up in the air. She plays with it for a while, and then tries a bolder and more volatile element, conjuring a small fire in her cupped hands. It feels wrong, because she knows Noatak sees it as wrong; but at the same time it gives her that feeling of rebellion that she exalted in when she began Equalist field work. It makes her feel proud and reassured, like she has a gift. Maybe she should not think that way, but it feels better than thinking of it as a burden she has been cursed with carrying.

Not knowing what else to do, Korra goes to bed early, but spends most of the night restlessly shifting positions in her bed. Her thoughts wander to her childhood, to her earliest, fragmented memories of life before coming to Republic City. She remembers snowy terrain, similar to the mountains here, only more level. She has clung to certain memories of her parents, gone over them so many times in her mind that she has wondered whether she fabricated some of them. She remembers their voices, and the feeling of being rocked while wrapped in thick, fuzzy-soft material. She cannot picture their faces clearly; she wishes there had been a photograph with the article about them.

The journey to the United Republic of Nations is fuzzy, like a poorly developed photograph; but she definitely remembers Noatak showing her the apartment. She remembers how he stayed up with her after she had nightmares, which lessened in frequency but never truly stopped as she got older. He made her feel safe; even before he taught her how to defend herself, his very presence assured her that she was not alone. She even got him to sing, something he would never do on his own … but buried beneath the memory of his voice, is the memory of a woman singing the same song. Her mother. Senna. Mom.

* * *

Music: "All I Ever Wanted" from _The Prince of Egypt_. Dreams prompt both Korra and Moses (in the movie, not the Bible) to learn the truth about their biological families and the circumstances of their adoptions. The song also kind of alludes to everything Tonraq had and lost as a prince; like Moses, he had to leave his home because of some purported wrongdoing.


	10. In My Life

_Published March 6, 2016_

"In My Life"

* * *

To come to a doubt, and to a debatement of any religious duty, is the voice of God in our conscience: Would you know the truth? Doubt, and then you will inquire. ~ John Donne

* * *

When Korra wakes up, there is an extra blanket on top of her. Noatak must have come home late, found her asleep, and thought she was cold. She stays in bed for a little while, remembering the previous day's events, gathering her strength and wits before going out where she might see him. She has practiced pretending to be normal and innocent around friends and strangers, but she has never kept a secret from her father. She will have to treat this like any other mission or mundane interaction.

She gets out of bed, leaves her room, and finds Noatak in the kitchen. The table is laden with tea, food, and newspaper pages. He looks up from the paper and smiles pleasantly at her. "Good morning."

"Hey." Korra helps herself to a cup of morning tea.

"We both overslept," Noatak informs her. "I know I needed it, but I can't speak for you."

"I couldn't sleep for most of the night. I probably needed it, too." She sits at the table. "Do you have plans today?"

"I have to go back in an hour."

"So soon?"

He looks directly at her. "You could come with me. I know you're not on the schedule, but at this point, we can always use extra hands."

"Um … I have some things I need to finish here, and around town."

"I see." After pausing to let her eat, he asks, "How was your day yesterday?"

"Oh … good. It was like old times, with Asami."

"Did you talk to her, as you wanted?"

"Yeah … uh … I don't think I convinced her. Her take on bending and politics is pretty different from ours."

"I've wondered if I should talk to Hiroshi about her, but then again, his decisions as a parent are his alone."

"I thought of something I wanted to ask you about." Korra keeps her tone casual, idly curious. "You know all about bending. Have you ever heard of a bender who, for some reason, didn't know they were a bender until they were pretty old?"

"No, I haven't. That may be possible, but it would be extremely unusual."

"Have you ever heard of a bender who didn't want to be a bender?"

Noatak pauses; Korra cannot read his expression. But after a moment he admits, "I used to know someone like that."

"Really? What happened to them?"

He shrugs. "We lost touch. I'm still waiting to find out." He stands, but leaves the dishes. "Since I cooked, would you mind cleaning while I get ready?"

"Sure." Korra is quick, once he goes back to his room. She eats her own breakfast, washes and dries the kitchenware. When she is done, she knocks on his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"… Alright."

She opens the door halfway and looks in. Noatak is dressed in clothes that will fit easily under the Amon uniform, once he goes underground and changes into it. He is sitting on the bed, surrounded by paperwork. "Do you have time to talk, before you go out?" Korra asks.

In the past he would have answered "Of course," but he is so busy he hesitates before assenting, "All right." Korra comes in and sits on the bed, pulling her legs into the lotus position. "What's on your mind?"

"Could you tell me about how you adopted me?"

He looks about as bemused as she expected. "I've told you the story, haven't I?"

"There are some details I still don't know. How did you decide to do it? And how did you end up choosing me, of all people?"

He bites his lip, stalls by shuffling some papers together and setting them aside before he turns to face her. "I was twenty-seven. I'd been on my own for a decade and a half. I'd traveled around the world, and I was starting to feel like I wanted some roots. And some companionship. I chose you because … I saw myself in you. You were restless, pushing your boundaries … a little selfish perhaps, but wanting everything to be fair."

"Was the process hard? I'm not a lawyer or a social worker, but they don't just hand over a kid to anyone who asks for one, do they?"

"Of course not. But, I had little in the way of identification, since I'd lost my family and whatever records they kept. I had some friends who helped facilitate the process." He looks directly into her eyes now. "Were you just curious, or did you have a particular purpose?"

"Well … I wanted to ask, if … well …"

"What?"

"Would you mind if I looked for my birth parents?"

The corners of his mouth turn down, and a crease appears between his eyes. Is that displeasure or confusion? "Where is this coming from?"

Korra shrugs. "It's just something I've thought about. I have questions … that only they can answer."

Noatak pinches the bridge of his nose, as though trying to ward off a headache. He draws a long breath, then lets it out in a sigh. "I was afraid this might happen."

"I thought you weren't afraid of anything," Korra teases, hoping to lighten the mood and ease his answer or attitude. When he drops his hand, his mouth twitches, but he does not truly smile. "Seriously, though, why?" she presses.

"You might be better off not knowing. If you find them, you might not like what you learn about them, or about yourself."

That is a good point. In the past, she did not want to learn about them, in case it turned out they had not wanted her. Now she knows they wanted her, but she could be disappointed in other ways. Thirteen years is a long time; they could have had more children, or divorced, or died. But Korra stays firm. "I appreciate that, Dad, but I've given it a lot of thought, and I want to look for them."

"I don't want you going about that by yourself."

"Then will you help me?"

He looks pained. "You know I can't, not now. Can you wait until after the revolution?"

"No, that's the thing; I want to do it now, _before_ the revolution, because there isn't going to be an _after_, is there? Once the United Republic is under Equalist control, you'll move on to the other nations, and fight whoever tries to stop us along the way. You'll only get busier from here on out."

"It's not something you should concern yourself about. If they're dead or indifferent, finding them will only cause you pain."

"But—"

He cuts her off: "When you're grown up and living independently, then you can look for them. I can't help you."

"_Can't_ or _won't_? Are you scared they'd replace you or something?"

"No—of course not."

"Then what are you scared of?"

"I don't have time for this—I have to get back out there." Noatak reaches out and squeezes her hand, more out of an appeal than affection. "We'll talk about it later." He packs up his papers and leaves Korra sitting sullenly on the bed. A couple minutes later she hears him open and shut the door as he leaves.

That was definitely evasive. But was it guilty? Is his reservation really for her good, or for his own?

Maybe she already should have confronted him with what she learned. But then he might not have left her unsupervised. For once, Korra feels almost glad that she can expect him to be out for a long time: she now has the entire day to herself.

She starts her search right where she is. She knows Noatak keeps valuables in a fire-proof safe on the top shelf of his bedroom closet. Korra gets it down and picks the lock easily—it was one of the first skills she learned at Equalist training.

Inside are bundles of paper yuans, the "emergency money" he has vaguely mentioned. She sets them aside on the floor, ignoring Avatar Aang's picture just as she ignored the gaze of his statue on the way home from the library.

The next item she fishes out startles her: a small but unmistakable bomb. She has seen these, even transported boxes of materials to make them. Why does he have one in their apartment? Does he anticipate ever needing one?

The feeling in her stomach changes. The knot that has been present since she read that article now feels like it has been twisted into a new design. Is this what fear feels like? Fear is what she felt as a child, before she learned how to fight, and who to fight. Her father was the one who helped her stop being afraid; now he is the one frightening her. She no longer knows whether she is being silly or sensible.

At the back of the safe are several pieces of paper, the largest ones folded in half: their immigration forms, her birth certificate, and her adoption paperwork. The papers state her full name, _Anakorra_. That is different from the name of of Tonraq and Senna's child … but then again, Noatak has never called her Anakorra. The forms are from an agency affiliated with the Water Tribe, called the New Beginnings Agency. Good: with Noatak unwilling to help, this is the starting point she needs.

Korra puts the money and bomb back in the safe, replaces it on the shelf, and takes the papers to the phone. When the operator picks up, she asks, "Can you connect me to the New Beginnings Adoption Agency?"

There is a long pause before the operator says, "I don't see any organization by that name."

"It was up and running about thirteen years ago. Maybe it closed since then?"

"Let me ask someone." It takes another ten minutes before the operator comes back. "I'm sorry, it's not in our records. You could go to City Hall to see if it was ever a registered business."

"I see. Thanks anyway." Korra hangs up the phone feeling equal parts disappointed and suspicious. Maybe this adoption agency never existed. In any case, she cannot go to any city officials or even private investigators for guidance. Even if she just acts like an orphan looking for her biological parents, such a search could implicate her father, and eventually lead to the Equalist movement.

She tries to think of people who could help her. There are probably Equalists who specialize in making documents, or at least know people who do. But if she seeks help from someone within the movement, word could get back to Amon about it. Asking Asami for advice or assistance is out of the question, since Hiroshi or one of his servants would be sure to tell Amon about it. But the thought of Asami makes her think of Mako and Bolin, and she hovers on the thought of them. They do not know people higher in society, but they do know people from the lower levels.

The idea takes root in Korra's mind, and she smiles at the irony. The thing she likes least about them might actually be an advantage to her.

After getting dressed, she packs up some food, money, a map of the streetcar routes, a pencil, and a notebook (with the documents tucked between its pages) in a knapsack.

With the wait time, the streetcar ride, and walking the rest of the way, it takes just over an hour to get to the Arena. Korra half expects the doors to be locked—there is no match scheduled, have not been for weeks—but she is able to open them, and remembers the way to the boys' apartment.

She calls their names cautiously as she nears the trapdoor-like entrance to their rooms. "Bolin? Mako?"

The elder brother's voice responds. "Who's there?"

"It's Korra." She comes up the stairs, and spots him as her head comes up level with the floor. Mako looks at her blankly, not moving from his spot on the couch. "Sorry to surprise you," she says.

"Did Bolin invite you? Because he's out."

"No, I came on my own." She comes over and stops in front of the couch. "I need to ask you guys something. It's going to sound kind of out-of-nowhere, and it might be a long shot, but I thought I'd at least try."

He closes the book he was reading. "Ohh-kay. What's up?"

"When you worked with the Triple Threats, did you ever meet anyone who worked with fake documents?"

Mako looks about as surprised as she expected. He thinks it over for a moment. "Not that I can recall. But there were a lot of people in the gang that we weren't on speaking terms with."

"Do you think they'd have someone who does that kind of work?"

"Probably. Why—"

"Can you tell me where to find them? They must have some main base or headquarters or something."

"You want to knock on their door and talk to them?"

"Yeah."

Mako seems bewildered now, as if he does not know what to think of her. Finally he says, "I thought you … didn't like the triads?"

"You're right. I don't."

"So why're you seeking them out?"

"That's my business. It's too complicated to get into. Can you give me their address?"

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, scratching the back of his neck. "I _can_, but … are you sure …"

"Yes, I'm sure." Korra sits a couple feet away from him, takes off her knapsack, and extracts her map.

"Tell me what you want from them, first."

Korra pauses. "Can't you just do me this favor, as a friend?"

Mako's expression hardens slightly. "No offense, Korra, but most nonbender girls try to steer clear of triads, unless they're spying, selling themselves, or dating a member. The others don't go in willingly. So if you're planning to, you're either recklessly stupid, or have some kind of advantage or ulterior motive."

Korra stares him down, trying to keep her face blank while different thoughts and emotions simmer inside her. Part of her is indignant about him underestimating her ability to take care of herself; but looking at the situation from his point of view, she can understand and even appreciate his concern; and his willingness to consider the possibility of her being more than she seems flatters her.

She sighs, fighting exasperation. "If I tell you what I'm doing, will you tell me what I need to know?"

He folds his arms. "Maybe. You'll have to convince me."

"Okay. I need to talk to someone about some legal documents. They might be fake, I can't tell. I want to find someone who can confirm if they're authentic or forged."

"Then why would you want to talk to a criminal? Why don't you go to the police?"

Korra chooses her words carefully. "I don't want to jump to a conclusion and get someone in trouble if they're actually innocent. Even if these papers are fake, there still might be an explanation. So I don't want to implicate or incriminate anyone until I have the full story."

Mako looks at her, trying to understand. "Does it have to do with someone you care about?"

Korra tries not to wince. Either he is more shrewd than she expected, or she is more transparent than she thinks. He might as well be inviting her to climb out on a tree limb. "Can I trust you?"

"I—sure you can."

Of course she can't, not with everything; but if he is going to help her, she has to let him know a little bit. "It's about my adoption. So, the things I find out might have an impact on my dad."

He looks at her quizzically. "Are you trying to find your biological parents?"

"No." Her stomach twists as she says it; she feels the same kind of shame she felt about bending, as though she is betraying one party out of loyalty to another. "I haven't decided," she amends. "Before I can even make that decision, I need to know what happened to them, and to me, when I was adopted."

Mako considers her, then finally nods. "Okay, I'll help. But you're not going to meet them by yourself. I'll introduce you."

"Really? I don't want to inconvenience—"

"It's fine. I'll get to say 'hi' to the old crowd. Can I have a piece of paper?"

She takes out a leaf and hands it to him. Mako scrawls a note for Bolin, and then they set out.

* * *

The Triple Threat Triad's headquarters is in the kind of neighborhood Noatak always told Korra to avoid, unless she was on a mission. He did not doubt her ability to fend off attackers, but it would be more prudent if she did not show her full range of combative skills. Korra now realizes that could have meant more than she was aware of at the time. She has always possessed more power than she knew how to use.

Just to be safe, she tries to think the way she does on scouting missions, making note of the people and places they pass by. Hobos, drug dealers, and prostitutes loiter by street corners. Only a handful of people actually move up and down the sidewalks, while the others sit or lean against buildings. The pedestrians are hunched and hurried, except for one young-looking guy who seems to be out for a casual walk. Korra wonders if he is an inexperienced tourist or immigrant—or maybe a spy from another triad.

Mako regards the Triple Threats' building warily. "Something's not right. There are usually thugs posted outside. We better be cautious." He sidles up to the window next to the door, but Korra walks nonchalantly to the door and knocks. She takes a step back and waits with her hand on her hip. After a minute, she knocks again, but no one comes. There is no sound inside.

Mako frowns, slipping out of his uptight posture. "Well, this is unprecedented. They always have at least a few people here."

"Hang on." Korra shifts her weight and executes a well-practiced kick, knocking the doors off their hinges and sending them crashing inward. Mako looks at her with the expression of a child who has witnessed a shocking act of daring and now fears the consequences.

When no one comes within view, Korra steps calmly inside and surveys the environment. The walls are mottled with graffiti, scorch marks, and water stains. There is a mess of expensive-looking but uncared-for furniture, some of it overturned, and some covered by white sheets. "Hello?" Korra calls out. "Anyone home?"

"Freeze where you are!" The words are startling, but the voice belongs to a child.

Mako calls out to the stranger. "Who's there?"

"A caretaker. Who are you, and why're you trespassing?"

"We're … potential customers. We're looking for the Triple Threats."

There is a shuffling sound, as someone crawls out from behind a cloth draped over a table: a preteen boy with brown skin, brown hair, and threadbare clothes the color of dirt and grass. "Oh, hey, Mako." The boy stands and raises two fingers in a mock salute, jiggling his cap. Korra thinks he looks vaguely familiar, and tries to place him in her memory.

"Skoochy," Mako greets. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Why not? I'm rising up."

Mako gestures to each of his companions. "Korra, this is Skoochy."

"Hey," Korra says, peering at him. "I think I've seen you before." She feels sure now: has seen him playing in the park and at the train station with other street kids.

"What happened to the place?" Mako asks.

"It got trashed."

"I can see that, but who did it?"

Skoochy stuffs his hands in his pockets with the air of an adult. "Well, my memory's a little foggy. Maybe you can help clear it up?"

"You're good, Skoochy. A real pro." Mako reluctantly takes a dollar bill from his pocket and hands it to the kid, while Korra gapes in disgust. What kind of punk kid demands bribes? She answers her own question: the kind being groomed for a life of crime.

The money immediately loosens Skoochy's lips. "Equalists raided the hideout a while ago. They've hit up all the triads—that's why they got so territorial lately."

"What about Shady Shin and the others? D'you know where they are now?"

"Yeah. They said I could stay here if I told people where to find 'em."

"So where are they now?"

Skoochy turns his head away and holds out his hand again. Korra scowls along with Mako, but she steps forward with another bill before he can. After pocketing the money, Skoochy takes off his cap and takes out a piece of paper that was tucked into the inner brim. He unfolds it and shows it to them. Korra copies the address into her notebook, and spreads her map out on the table to locate the place: it is on the same side of the city, just twenty or so blocks away.

She glances uncertainly at Mako. "Are you up for a little hike?"

"Sure."

"You're gonna fix the doors first, right?" Skoochy says.

They do their best, resting the doors back on the hinges, but the pins are all either broken or too bent out of shape to put back in. Mako solves the problem by heating the metal pins enough to bend them back into straight rods; he just manages to melt the broken pieces together. They get the doors back on the hinges, but they seem more crooked now. Korra doesn't feel right leaving the kid vulnerable, but then again, street urchins are not strangers to vulnerability. For the first time in weeks, she thinks of the young airbender she met at the library. Skoochy must be close to her age.

She pauses before leaving. "Skoochy—are you a bender?"

"Yup. Earth."

"You're not actually _working_ for the Triple Threats, are you?"

He looks at her, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Well, I haven't got a contract or whatnot, but they said they might be able to work something out."

"Aren't you scared the Equalists might come back here, looking for more benders?"

"If they do, I know how to hide."

Korra nods. "Okay. Take care of yourself."

Mako rolls his eyes. "That's all he knows how to do." He does not thank Skoochy for the information, and Skoochy does not thank them for fixing the doors. It occurs to Korra that this is probably because, to them, they were business transactions, not favors. She wonders what it means that Mako is helping her for free.

* * *

The new headquarters is in a similarly run-down area. The door to the hideout is not guarded. Mako knocks, and stands in the way to prevent Korra from barging in again. Almost immediately the door opens a crack, enough for a man with a shadow of a beard to peer out while the chain is still on the door. "Mako? Is that you?"

"Hey, Shady Shin. Is anyone else here?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm here as a favor to a friend. I thought the Triple Threats might have a recommendation."

The doorman closes the door, but a moment later the door opens, and they see him fully: a slightly unkempt Water Tribe man dressed in fancy but dirty clothes. Korra recognizes him as one of the gangsters whose bending Amon took away at the Revelation. She manages to rein in her surprise and keep her face blank as she follows Mako inside.

They go into a room that seems like a cross between a living room and a conference room. A waterbender sits on a large chair, flanked with two thugs. An assortment of men—some young, some around middle age, some polished, some scruffy—hang about the room, and eye the newcomers with varying levels of curiosity and indifference.

"Never thought you'd show your face to us again," the man in the throne says.

"Nice to see you too," Mako responds with a wry smile. He glances around at the others. "How are you guys?"

Shady Shin answers. "Honestly … things have been rough lately."

Mako nods once, as though in condolence. "I heard on my way here. Sorry."

"Who's your girlfriend?" a stocky earthbender asks.

"This is Korra," Mako says flatly, "and she's not my girlfriend. Where's Zolt?"

"Zolt retired," Viper informs him.

"What? When did that happen?"

"After he lost his bending. The old man couldn't do nothing without it."

Mako looks taken aback. Perhaps he did not know that the rumors about Amon's ability were true; maybe he did not believe them until now. Korra cannot help feeling sorry for him, but she is also somewhat glad to hear this news. Equalizing criminals is one thing she is certain Amon has been doing right.

After the moment it takes to recover his thoughts, Mako asks, "So, who's in charge now?"

Viper smirks and lifts a hand in mock greeting. "You're looking at him. So, what brings you and your non-girlfriend here?"

Korra steps forward. "I need to talk to a forger, or anyone who deals in fake documents. Is there anyone here who could help with that? Or maybe you know someone who could?"

Viper considers her. "Maybe. Gentlemen?"

A thin, mustached firebender speaks up in a high-pitched voice. "Yeah. I know a guy who used to do that."

"Who?"

"I had his business card, but I can't seem to recall—"

"Let me guess. Your memory's 'foggy'?"

Mako speaks up. "Isn't it just good business to tell us? If you recommend people to this guy, he'll owe you a favor."

"Business has been bad all around. You don't get nothing without giving something."

Korra is tempted to say, _"How about a guarantee that Amon won't find your new hideout?"_ but she knows better. Instead she says, "How much do you want?"

"Thirty's good for me."

"Let's say twenty."

"Twenty-five, final offer."

"Fine."

Ping goes into the next room, and returns with a business card, which he shows to Korra. It advertises a pawnshop in a neighborhood of small businesses. "Tell the cashier you want some personalized stationery. He'll let you in to see his boss." He does not let her keep the card, but she memorizes the address, and hands over the cash, cursing herself for going so low as to finance a triad.

Shady Shin escorts them out, but gives Mako a final word: "With the Equalists looking for benders, if you and Bolin need a place to hide, we've still got room for you guys."

Mako looks at him expressionlessly. "I'll keep that in mind."

When they stop at an intersection, Korra glances at Mako. "Are you coming? I mean, you don't have to—you can go home, if you want."

He surveys the intersection, from one direction to the next. Finally he says, "I still think I'd better come."

"Suit yourself." She does not mind, really. In fact, it might be good to have someone closer to the Triple Threats to make the introduction. "I hate those guys."

Mako looks at her curiously. "You say that like you know them."

"I meant—I hate people like them."

"Well, to be honest, I'm not crazy about them either. They weren't good role models for Bolin. Still aren't, actually."

"How did you stand working for them?"

"They're not _always_ jerks. They gave us money, and sometimes even a place to stay. We learned how to bend from them. Shady Shin even taught Bolin to play pai sho."

It sounds too nice for thieves and murderers. But then again, maybe being part of that inner circle made Mako feel like one of them. Maybe deep down, he still is one of them.

"Do you think you could talk Skoochy out of working for them?"

Mako looks doubtful. "I guess I can try."

"If you can get through to him, before he gets into trouble … you could prevent him getting arrested, or losing his bending like some of the others." They walk in silence for a minute before she speaks again. "Have you wondered what you would have done if Toza hadn't helped you?"

"Well … yeah. It came down to my choice. Shady Shin played the guilt card, saying that I had to take care of Bolin. But I thought getting our own place would be the better thing for him."

Korra looks at him, feeling something like admiration. "You chose honesty."

He meets her gaze. "What, does that surprise you?"

"No—I just—I respect you for that." She means it. She breaks their eye contact to look forward as they walk. "Can I ask you something else?"

"I guess."

"Do your eyebrows naturally grow in that shape? Or do you shape them that way?"

He looks so bewildered by the question that she looks away in embarrassment. But a moment later he mutters, "I shape them like that."

She smiles crookedly. "Have you always, or has being with Asami made you all prissy?"

He starts to flare up at this. "Why do you even care?"

Korra shrugs and says innocently, "I have a natural curiosity." At that moment, she feels a strange sense of deja vu. She is certain she heard someone say those same words, in that same tone, with that same gesture; but she cannot think of who.

After a moment's silence Mako answers the question. "I've done it for years. It's a firebender style."

"Come again?"

"I picked it up from Lightning Bolt Zolt. He's the one who taught me to bend lightning. He said the shape was supposed to be like a flame."

She studies his eyebrows again. "I think I see it, but it's a bit of a stretch."

"It's not like it takes a lot of effort." He pauses and then asks pointedly, "Why do you wear your hair in three ponytails?"

She has worn it this way since she was little. "It keeps it out of my face. It's convenient."

"Why not just have one ponytail? Or cut your hair short?"

Now Korra starts to feel the same annoyance he did a moment ago. "Okay, I get the hint. I won't question your fashion choices again."

They have to stop at another street corner to wait for the lights to change.

Behind them comes the sound of car tires screeching, then someone calling out, "Sorry!" Korra looks back, and sees that someone tried to cross just when the lights changed back to signal the cars' right of way. She is surprised to find that she recognizes the jaywalker: he was in the neighborhood of the Triple Threats' original headquarters, the only person in that area who seemed neither scared nor purposeful. It occurs to her that his behavior is exactly what a scout should exhibit on a mission; after all, she has done it plenty of times.

She tugs on Mako's sleeve and says in a low voice, "I think we're being followed. I saw that same guy earlier today."

Mako glances back; the young man has just managed to cross the street, about a hundred yards away from them. "You're sure?"

"Let's keep walking, then stop, and see what he does." Following the map, they go down a couple blocks, then stop and pretend to look at a storefront window on a corner. Korra pretends to look at Mako when she is really looking past him at their tail, who has also stopped. "Do you believe me now?"

Mako looks both skeptical and amused. "First an identity crisis, now a stalker? What kind of game are you playing?"

"Sometimes even I don't know." His use of the word "game" helps Korra think of an idea. "Watch this." She scoops up some snow from the sidewalk and packs it into a ball. Snowballs have always been a favorable weapon for her; she wonders, now, if her waterbending has helped her without her being conscious of it. The snow and ice have always melted in just the way she wants it to.

Korra winds up and throws the snowball at just the right trajectory to hit the man squarely on the side of his head. She ducks around the corner just as he turns toward her, and gestures for Mako to follow her into the alley on the other side of the building. They hide there, and a minute later the stalker walks by, casting furtive glances all around. The moment he spots them, Korra tackles him and pulls him into the alley. "Gotcha, creeper!" The youth splutters but does not shout or scream.

"Do you know him?" Mako asks, looking suspiciously between the two of them.

"Not personally," Korra says coolly. "Could you give us a minute? You can stand watch."

"Uh, sure." He steps out onto the sidewalk, but only turns halfway away from them. Korra pulls the guy further into the alley, and then pushes him up against the wall.

"Who sent you?"

His breathless answer is automatic: "No one."

She twists his arm up behind his back, making him grunt and gasp. "Don't lie to me! Are you with the city?"

"I'm on your side!" he grunts. "Honest!"

"Then who sent you?"

"Our—our leader!"

"Who's that?"

The guy is almost whimpering. "Amon! Okay?"

Korra's grip slackens—she had not realized she was squeezing so tightly—but she does not let him go, even in spite of the chaos stirring and settling inside her. "How long has he been having me followed?"

"I dunno—I thought today was the first day. I don't know anything!"

Amon must have dispatched a tail as soon as he arrived at work, right after their argument that morning. "He doesn't trust me," Korra realizes. He _is_ afraid of what she wants to find out. Does that mean she is on the right track, coming closer to the truth? The thought is both frightening and encouraging.

"Will you let me go? Sister?"

She snorts at the familial honorific. "Go back and make your report. Tell Amon you got caught." Then she lets go of him. He backs away from her, his eyes filled with fear and confusion, before running out the alley.

Mako is still standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed and expression blank. He watches the man leave before turning to Korra. "What was that about?"

"Long story. I won't bore you with the details." She checks the map again. "We're only a couple blocks away. Let's get this over with."

They find the pawnshop easily enough. Korra goes directly to the cashier behind the counter and says, "I need some personalized stationery."

There is no obvious flash of recognition, but he holds eye contact and nods before going to the back room. When he returns a few minutes later, he gestures for them to follow.

It looks like a fairly ordinary office, with bookshelves and cabinets lining the walls. A couple armchairs are set out for visitors. The forger sits in a large swivel chair behind a fancy mahogany desk. Unlike Skoochy and the Triple Threats, his surroundings, appearance, and manners appear professional. "Can I help you kids?"

"Yeah. Two-Toed Ping recommended you."

"Ah, so you're with the Triple Threats."

"Not exactly. He used to be," Korra says, jerking her head toward Mako. "But this doesn't have to do with them. It's personal."

"I see. So what'll it be? Passports? Licenses?"

"We don't need anything made," Mako spells out.

The forger pauses, his enthusiasm waning. "Then what do you need me for?"

"Just verification. Or whatever the opposite of that is." Korra places the knapsack on his desk, takes out the notebook, and removes the documents. "Can you tell me whether these are authentic?"

"Of course. But it'll cost you."

Indignant, Korra puts a hand on her hip. "You charge just for _looking_ at something?"

"I don't eat for free, sweetheart."

She huffs. "Fine, how much?"

"Usually I'd say a hundred yuans … but for you I'll drop it to seventy-five."

After taking the streetcar, bribing Two-Toed Ping, and setting aside money for the streetcar ride home, she does not have enough. "How about fifty?"

The man lets out an appreciative laugh. "Seventy, final offer."

Korra starts to turn away, disappointed. "Never mind. Maybe another day."

When she starts for the door, Mako holds her back. "How much do you need?"

"Another twenty."

She watches in surprise as Mako reaches in his pocket and takes out a wallet. He pulls out four bills and hands them to her. "You sure?" She knows money is even tighter for the boys than for herself.

Mako nods. "You can pay me back later."

"Really? You don't have to—"

"I don't want this trip to be wasted."

The self-interested statement actually makes her feel a little better. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." When he says that, Korra remembers how Asami added the word "literally" when she used that phrase. _You are welcome_. Welcome to their lives, their homes, their favors.

They fork over the money and the documents. The forger says to them, "Give me fifteen minutes. Make yourselves comfortable."

Korra and Mako each sit in an armchair while he goes about his work. He rummages through drawers full of files, finds a book and flips through the pages, seems to compare the documents to another example. He looks at them through a magnifying glass, and holds them up against the electric lights. Korra watches the clock to time him, wondering if he really meant what he said. She spent so much of the day focusing on the search itself that she did not have much time to think about what the results will mean, and what her next step will be.

Only ten minutes go by before he calls them back to his desk. "What's your verdict?" Korra asks.

He waves his hand over the immigration forms, birth certificate, and adoption certificate. "These are all forgeries."

Korra looks at him, not wanting to believe it, not ready to believe it so easily. "All of them? You're certain?"

He nods. "The details are almost impeccable, but the paper doesn't have the watermark that would have been used at the time, and the seals are made from copied stamps, not the real deal. They're impressive forgeries, but still forgeries."

Mako glances at Korra, who cannot take her eyes off the papers. When she seems unable to move, he prompts her gently, "Was there anything else you wanted to do? Or ask?"

She shakes her head, both to answer him and to clear her mind. "No. That was it." She picks up the papers, holding them securely in both hands, and looks at the forger. "Thanks for all the help."

"Anytime, milady. My best to Ping and the others," he says to Mako.

The two teenagers exit the back room and then the pawnshop itself. Once outside, Korra stands forlornly on the sidewalk, staring down at the papers that used to hold so much weight. Now their weight has nothing to do with what they are, and everything to do with what they are _not_.

"Korra?" Mako's feet crunch in the snow as he stands next to her. "Are you okay?" He places his hand tentatively on her arm.

"No." She looks at him, and then back at the documents, in despair. "I'm not okay. I'm …"

"Let's find someplace to sit down." He takes her arm and gently leads her to a trolley stop with a sheltered bench. "What's wrong?"

"Everything." Her answer is truthful, but it means a lot more than he is aware of, so she tries to specify. "These are my adoption papers. If they're fake—what does that mean? What should I do?"

"Do you think you were adopted illegally?"

"I—this pretty much proves it."

"Hm." Mako looks thoughtful, in a dark, brooding way, like he is trying to solve a brain-teaser. For Korra, this feels like trying to solve a sudoku puzzle whose numbers turned out to be entirely different than what she thought they were. But Mako can examine it with fresh, impartial eyes, which could help despite his incomplete knowledge of what is at stake. "Can you remember your parents at all?"

"Only vaguely."

"Can you remember anyone else who took care of you, between them and your adoptive dad?"

She shakes her head. "No. I remember wanting my parents, and being with him. I think … I think I was kidnapped. The question is … was it my dad who took me, or did he get me from someone else? Someone who made him those documents?"

"Why would someone take you by force?"

Korra can think of only one reason why anyone would single her out. _Because I'm the Avatar_. But phrasing it like that, she suddenly thinks of another question: Why would Noatak want the Avatar? Why would the man born to end bending take the most powerful bender in the world …

Of course.

If Avatar Aang were alive, and his city was being threatened by people trying to eliminate bending, he would put a stop to it.

If Korra had grown up knowing she was the Avatar—the world's most powerful bender—the government probably would have called upon her to quell such an uprising.

Amon may have wanted to prevent the Avatar up against his revolution. Or he may have wanted her on his side rather than fighting against him. Probably both.

Her head hurts thinking of these possibilities. Is she being clever and deductive, or just seeing connections where none exist? She doesn't _want_ any of this to be true, so it can't be wishful thinking.

"Korra?" Mako grasps her shoulder and shakes her slightly, wanting to know what she is thinking, what can have her so upset, how he can help.

"This is so messed up," she says. "This is—bigger than you can imagine. I can't even …"

"Look, Korra, if you're scared, you don't have to go home. You can stay with us, or Asami if that would be better, and we can talk to the police—"

"No!" She is struggling to compose herself, because she cannot start blubbering like some poor kid afraid of an abusive parent, insisting on returning to someone who claims to love her—

Oh, spirits. Is that what the situation is? Did he keep her only so she wouldn't oppose him, or so he could use her? Did he ever really love her?

Mako pauses, concerned and careful. "Do you think he'd hurt you, if he found out you found out about this?"

"No!" She bristles at the look he is giving her. "I'm not scared of _him_. I'm scared of what this _means_. If I bring this up—if I accuse him of lying and ask him to answer my questions—I'm afraid of what that will change."

Mako is silent for a moment, deep in thought himself, though his thoughts cannot be nearly as deep and murky as Korra's. Finally he says, "I think whatever changes will come down to what you do. Like, whether you decide to stay with him, or look for your real parents—I don't know what your other options are, but it comes down to your choice. You can't change what already happened, but you can decide how to act on what you know."

They cannot leave until she knows where she is going, so Korra considers her options at this point.

She could go home, or find some other place to stay. She rules out the latter option when she remembers her Equalist tail. He probably saw her go to the Arena, and he definitely saw her looking for the triads and walking around with Mako. If she does not go home, it will look very bad for the firebender boy. For the sake of his reputation, and by extension his safety, she has to return and show that she is alright.

From there, her choices are to tell Noatak what she learned, or pretend she has learned nothing. The former option could cause an explosion between them; but the latter would bring a gradual, simmering sense of division between them, because she would always be in doubt, and keeping a secret from him would feel like a betrayal, because it would be out of a lack of trust. But if he does not deserve her trust, what difference does it make? The possibility that he has done nothing wrong …

Korra feels like her mind is a racetrack, and her thoughts going in circles.

Mako tries to help again. "What matters more to you? Keeping things stable at home, or finding out the truth?"

She remembers something Noatak said to her recently: _"This isn't about what you want. This is about what is right."_

This is not just about herself. This is about her parents and the stability of the world.

One way or another, she ought two rectify two wrongs: Tonraq and Senna should know that their daughter is alive, and the Avatar should take her rightful place keeping balance. Those things can only happen if she seeks and reveals the truth. It would be selfish to keep this knowledge to herself.

Before she endeavors to fix either problem, she has to know whether Amon will be her ally, her enemy, or a neutral power. She has to tell him what she has learned and see how he reacts.

If her suspicions are wrong—if he was an unknowing participant in another person's scheme to relocate the Avatar—then he might be willing to help her search for her real parents, if only to tell them that she is alive.

If her suspicions are right—if he took her for political motives—he is unlikely to let her change anything about the balance of the world, unless it benefits him, or the Equalists, or the greater good. And things will never be the same between them, because a secret as big as this casts doubt on everything else the secret-keeper says and does.

Of course, if he was her kidnapper, he could simply deny it. But if he did not do it, he should have no problem with her investigating the matter further, so that could be a test to fall back on.

Korra folds up the papers, slides them into the envelope, and puts the envelope in her bag. "I have to go home."

"Then what?"

She closes the bag and meets his amber eyes. "I choose the truth."

Mako nods, then stands and extends a hand to her. Korra fleetingly remembers Bolin offering to carry groceries. She could get up herself, but in that split second of memory, she decides to accept the help. Heck, he has already helped her today more than any friend has in her lifetime.

She lets him pull her up, but as she stands her foot slips on a patch of ice and she almost falls into him. He catches her, awkwardly holding her up; but he is quick to let go the moment she is steady. Korra mutters an apology, which Mako brushes off. She cannot remember being more embarrassed, at least not with a boy.

As they walk and ride the trolley back across the city, the sun starts to sink, and the buildings cast shadows on the streets, broken by strips of sunlight spilling between buildings and over lower rooftops. Korra shivers, half from cold, and half from anxiety of what she has learned and what she has yet to learn.

When they reach the point where they should split in different directions, Mako says, "I'll walk you home." It is not so much an offer as a decision already made. Korra does not argue, because she wants to have company for as long as possible. They do not speak much; Mako seems to sense and respect that she is not in the mood to chat.

She pauses when they reach her apartment building. "This is it." They both stop in front of the steps, lingering on the sidewalk.

Is this how people feel at the end of a date, when they have to go separate ways? She wonders how Mako says goodbye to Asami after their dates, if they hug or kiss or make plans to communicate or meet again. She cannot do any of those things with this boy, but she feels like she ought to say or do something.

Korra says the most relevant thing she can think of. "Thank you for helping me." She wants to say she owes him a favor, but it seems unlikely that she will be able to return it, so she decides not to mention it.

For the second time that day, Mako says, "You're welcome." He hesitates, not leaving right away. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"No. It's nice of you to ask, but there's nothing more at this point."

He looks at her, then at the apartment building, and then back at her. "I can't just walk away. I'm involved now, so …" He shrugs awkwardly. "I want to know that you'll be okay."

"I'll be fine. I may not know everything about my dad, but I know he would never hurt me."

"You trust him that much …" Mako trails off, so that she cannot tell if it is a question or a statement. She does recognize an implication, though: she once trusted Noatak to be honest with her, and her questions tonight might shatter that trust completely. What if her trust in him regarding his love and her safety is also misplaced?

"Korra. Once you find out the truth … what will you do?"

"I don't know. It depends on what the truth is, and how he reacts to my knowing it."

"Be careful, then." Mako hesitates, and for a moment Korra wonders, irrationally, if he is going to hug or kiss her. Instead he looks up at the building. "Which one is your apartment?"

Normally she would be on the defensive if anyone asked her that—especially a boy, and a firebender—but she feels she can trust him at this point. "It's the third floor, on the left. My window empties onto the fire escape. Trust me, if I ever needed to get out, I'd be able to."

"Just in case you can't—" Mako grasps the scarf around his neck, tugs it off, and holds it out to her. "Here."

_What the heck?_ "What's this for?"

He seems to be trying to hide his own embarrassment. "If you ever need help—if you, I don't know, don't feel safe—you can hang this in your window. Asami or Bolin or I will check to see if it's there, so we'll know if you need help."

"That's not ne—"

"If you want to return it, it'll give you a reason to get out of the apartment, to come see us."

She accepts it, because it seems like the only way to get him to leave, but she still looks at him uncertainly. "Are you sure? I've never seen you not wearing it."

There is definitely bashfulness in his expression, but not shame. "It was my dad's. I … I like to think it keeps me safe."

That does it. "I can't take—"

"I trust you to get it back to me. Okay?"

Now Korra wishes that _she_ were more deserving of trust. If Mako knew the truth about her being an Equalist, being Amon's daughter—the thought makes her cheeks burn with shame—he would fear her, maybe even hate her. Maybe this is why Noatak has kept secrets from her: it is easier to gloss over details that would destroy the good feelings that develop between people.

She looks down and twists the red fabric in her hands. "I shouldn't have asked for your help."

"Hey, it's no prob—"

"I shouldn't have gotten you mixed up in my problems." She looks at up him, trying to convey the apology she cannot verbalize. "My dad hasn't been honest with me, but I also haven't been honest with you."

Mako blinks at her, and his strangely shaped eyebrows turn downward, making him look puzzled and guarded once more. "What are you talking about?"

Korra hugs herself, as though to keep warm. "Have you ever had a secret that you couldn't tell, because it would be betray a lot of people? And maybe endanger whoever you told it to?"

Mako regards her cautiously. "I'm not sure if knowing gangsters counts … but I guess I can imagine that."

"Then you can believe—you _need_ to believe that I never meant to hurt you, and that anything I hid from you was for your own good."

"Like, you'd tell me but then you'd have to kill me?"

"Exactly."

His expression hovers between apprehension and suspicion. "You're not making me feel any better about leaving you—"

"Then forget I ever said anything. Leave me alone so I can sort this out—without hurting anyone else."

"Korra—"

"Goodbye." She turns away.

"Korra!" She has only taken two steps when she feels his hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"What?" His stubborn willingness to help is starting to irritate her.

He drops his hand. "Whatever you decide—I hope it works out for you."

"Thanks." All he wants is to help, to make sure she is okay. He is better than she deserves. "Mako?"

"Yeah?"

"I had you pegged wrong. I didn't think you could be good enough for Asami, but … you are. I knew from the start that you were lucky to have Asami, but now I think she's also lucky to have you." She starts to blush, not used to speaking so frankly.

Mako stares at her. "You're … really weird."

In spite of herself, Korra smiles ruefully. "You don't know the half of it."

He returns the smile uncertainly, and stays at the corner to watch her go inside. When she reaches the window in the stairwell, she sticks her head out and watches him walk down the street until he turns the corner. Now she is alone, but she has three things she lacked this morning: a shattered illusion, a strange connection, and a red scarf.

* * *

Author's Notes

Artwork: "MaKorra: You alright?" by jesterry on DeviantArt.

Music: "In My Life" from _Les Misérables_ (all Cosette and Jean Valjean's parts, but just the last lines of Marius and Eponine's: "In my life, there is someone who touches my life, waiting near, waiting here").

Symbolism: Mako's plan for arranging a distress signal is an actual strategy that people in abusive situations can use when they feel unsafe. It also harks back to two red symbols placed outside of dwellings in the Bible: the lambs' blood on the Hebrews' doorposts at Passover (Exodus 12:21-23) and Rahab's scarlet cord in the window (Joshua 2:17-21). Both signals were instructed by someone promising protection from coming danger.

Chronology: According to the timeline on the Avatar Wiki, Noatak/Amon was born in 130 AG (after the Air Nomad genocide). He ran away in 144. Korra was born in 153, and in this story Noatak kidnapped her in 157, when he was 27 and she was 4. He is now 40 years old.


	11. Burn

_Published May 23, 2016_

"Burn"

* * *

"You haven't committed an Infraction, Cassia. Yet."

She stands up. I keep my eyes on the dry fountain, willing the water back to it. "This is your warning, Cassia. Do you understand?"

"I understand," I say to the Official. The words are not entirely a lie. I _do_ understand her, on some level. I know why she has to keep things safe and stable and some part of me respects that. I hate that most of all.

When I finally meet her gaze, her expression is satisfied. She knows she's won. She sees in my eyes that I won't risk making things worse for Ky.

~ Ally Condie, _Matched_

* * *

Korra ties Mako's scarf around her waist, hoping Amon will not notice it. He knows that red is not a color she usually wears. If he asks about it, she will say that she borrowed it from Asami. Of course he must know, from the spy, that she was with Mako today, but loaning items of clothing seems like a gesture of familiarity that would give the wrong idea about their relationship. He will probably be angry enough as it is, after her behavior today, and when she tells him what she learned …

She treads up the flights of stairs slowly, like a soldier trying to keep calm while approaching a rendezvous that could result in either alliance or battle. It occurs to her that Amon might not even be home; he might still be working. But she sees light spilling out from the cracks around the door to their apartment. Once she reaches it, Korra hesitates long enough to wonder out how to address him. Can she pull off being assertive without sounding accusatory? She has always had strong convictions, and never hesitated to speak her mind to those she disagreed with, but that usually took the form of hitting local bullies, or yelling at politicians from a crowd of like-minded dissenters. She has never learned to debate an argument, mediate a conflict, or negotiate a deal. She has to be calm in order to get answers and avoid angering Amon.

Korra breathes deeply, bracing herself. She cannot keep him waiting. It is time to wake the sleeping dragon.

She twists the key in the lock, opens the door, and enters the apartment.

The air smells like steam, spices, and cooked vegetables. Noatak comes out of the kitchen area and corners her immediately. "Korra?"

"Hey." She hangs her coat up on the rack and uses her heels to take off her slush-spattered boots, leaving them next to the door.

Noatak watches her with his arms folded. "Where have you been?" His tone is calm, for now, but the slowness of his words sounds dangerous.

"A lot of places," Korra answers truthfully.

She says, "I can explain," at the same moment he says, "You better have an explanation."

They look at each other, both of them suspicious, guarded, and not sure how to proceed, until Korra breaks the tension. "I gotta go—then I'll tell you." He lets her duck into the bathroom.

Korra tells herself this is different from stalling—she really did have to relieve herself, after being out and about all afternoon—and she wants to check something anyway. After she washes her hands, she lets the water continue to run, and tries to bend it. Yes: when she brings her fingers together, the water rises up toward them. She drops it into the basin, reassured that she has not been delusional about one discovery, even if the rest turns out to be a misunderstanding.

When she comes out of the bathroom, she finds Noatak standing at the stove. She stands next to the table but does not sit down. "We need to talk."

He glances at her. "Yes, I think we do." He continues to stir the soup, speaking over his shoulder. "Would you care to tell me where you were and what you did today?" The words are nonchalant, but his tone has a dangerous undercurrent. Is he testing her honesty, or giving her the chance to pretend nothing happened?

"I will, but … it's kind of a convoluted story, so I think I'd better start at the beginning."

"I'm all ears."

"Well, do you remember that name I thought of the other day?"

"What name?"

"Yakone," Korra enunciates with an air of patience. Could he be playing dumb about this part of the previous Avatar's life? Why?

"Oh, yes, I remember you mentioned it."

"Well, yesterday, after my driving lesson with Asami, I went to the library to see if I could learn more about him." Hearing this, Noatak pauses long enough to turn around and look at her. Both of their faces are expressionless as Korra goes on. "I went to the section where they store old newspapers."

"I see." Noatak turns back to the pot on the stove. "And did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah, it was pretty much the same as what you said." Korra does not mention how eerily familiar Yakone's story and pictures were, though now she thinks she understands why they seemed so. "After that I just browsed. But I found another really interesting article. Do you want to know what it was about?"

"It sounds like you're going to tell me either way." His tone is ambivalent, almost teasing, but that could just be a front, unless he really does not suspect any danger.

Korra watches him carefully, ready to gauge his reaction. "It was printed the same year you adopted me The headline was, 'White Lotus Impostor Kidnaps Alleged Avatar'."

Noatak stops moving. Korra watches him carefully, trying to stay calm and breathe normally. This is the moment when everything might change, depending on his answer. Then again, does his answer mean much, weighed against all her evidence? If he denies what she suspects, how can she know if he is telling the truth?

He turns around slowly to look at her, still holding the spoon he was using to stir the soup. Korra meets his gaze, both of their expressions neutral. Only his eyes show any kind of emotion, something both unsettled and unsettling—she cannot tell if it is suspicion, fear, anger, or something else. Maybe he sees them in her eyes, too.

Finally Noatak speaks. "Why did you find this so interesting?"

She answers slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving his. "The little girl who got kidnapped was named Korra."

His face is impassive, his tone indifferent. "Sometimes different people have the same name. 'Korra' is not entirely unique."

"Her parents believed she was the Avatar because she could bend three different elements."

"So?"

"So …" Korra holds up her hand, willing a flame to appear, and it only takes a second for the fire to flicker up in her palm. Noatak drops the spoon, which clatters on the floor without his noticing. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs ajar, but Korra can tell it is not genuine shock; it is more like dismay.

"I can bend," she states, before lowering her hand and letting the flame go out. "Not just fire, either. Water and earth come easily to me. And I'm pretty sure I bent them when I was little, before _you_ told me that I couldn't."

Noatak's face betrays some true surprise. "You remember that?"

"I remember crying because I couldn't bend, and you telling me that everyone is equal. You told me it was a dream. I think I _have_ dreamed about bending, but I thought that was a subconscious fear. Given everything you say benders do, I didn't _want_ to be one. So I chose not to be." In her mind Korra adds spitefully, _Because I wanted to please you_.

He looks her over, as though appraising a pai sho board or a battle plan, trying to understand his opponent's strategy before developing his own. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to know how much _you_ know about where I came from."

"You think you're her. The Avatar?"

"I know I am. And I know _you_ know I am. But that's not the question."

"What is, then?"

"I looked at my adoption papers." Something changes in his face, some muscle twitch that betrays shock or fear. "That's what I was doing today. I took them to a professional forger, and he confirmed that they aren't real, notarized documents. Someone faked them, which means my adoption was never official. And I don't know whose fault that is. I think I know why you chose me, but I don't know who did the actual kidnapping."

"Korra—you think—" He does not finish the sentence. Perhaps he cannot. At any rate, he does not need to.

She takes a step forward, looking up at him with narrowed eyes, demanding the truth. "Did you take me away?"

Noatak considers her. "You don't _really_ think so, do you? If you did—if you believed I was a danger to you—you wouldn't have stayed to confront me."

"That means I'm not afraid of you. It doesn't mean I trust you."

"If you're a bender, Korra, then I have good reason to be afraid of you. Or I would, if you were willing to hurt me, but I would hate to think that of you."

She is seething, almost shaking with anger. How can he turn this around onto her? As if she is the one potentially in the wrong? "Don't try to confuse me! Tell me the truth."

His expression turns grim. "You're very smart, Korra. Sometimes, I've thought you're too smart for your own good."

"You're not answering! Say yes or no. _Did you take me away?_"

Noatak waits a full three seconds before answering, looking in her eyes the whole time. "Yes."

The usual, ambient sounds of pipes clanking and water boiling are drowned out by the pounding of blood in Korra's ears. She parts her lips, breathes through her mouth. Noatak looks at her evenly, not exactly challenging her, but not backing down.

She breaks the silence, when she realizes he will not. She murmurs the first words that come to her mind: a string of invectives she would never have dared to say in her guardian's presence before now. They do not seem to faze him.

"All that talk about justice," she says, her voice low, fighting a choking sensation. "And all this time, _you_ …"

He starts to move toward her, extending one hand. "Korra—"

"You _liar_! You despicable, two-faced—"

There are new sounds: splashing and sizzling. Noatak turns around and cries out: the flames of the stove have leapt up, and the soup is boiling so much it overflows and falls into the stove. "Control yourself!" he yells as he grabs some potholders and moves the cooking vessel. "You could start a fire, or a flood!"

Korra almost wants to disobey just to spite him; right now, she would welcome the catharsis of physical destruction.

When he turns around, she throws more questions at him, building on the information from the article: "You saw my parents?"

"Yes."

"You talked to them?"

"Yes.

"And you attacked them?"

"I knocked them out. It was painless." He is not the least bit apologetic. That is what infuriates Korra the most. She thinks she has never felt true anger until now.

"Painless? You call that _painless_?"

"I deliberately minimized—"

"You _tore my family apart!_" Flames come out from between her fingers, and she seriously considers trying to burn him—then she would be the kind of bender he abhors—

He moves before she does; she recognizes the chi-blocking dive, and dodges him easily, moving around to the other side of the table. She holds her fists close to her chest, wondering whether to stifle or release her fire. They look at each other across the furniture, him gauging her wildness, her assessing her advantages. The two of them have sparred, and sometimes hit each other too hard by accident, but they have never truly fought. She wonders if she could beat him, with or without her bending.

"It's not what you think," Amon says.

"No?" Korra holds up her fists and plants her feet in a defensive stance. "You just confirmed everything I found out but didn't want to believe."

"Let me explain—"

"Don't bother. I know why you did it."

"I'm not sure you do."

She gives a cry somewhere between a growl and a shout, and heads counterclockwise toward him. He moves in the same direction, standing where she was a moment ago; now she is closer to the stove and what is left of the soup. She backs up against the counter, and looks sideways at it before experimentally raising a hand. She can sense the water in the midst of the other ingredients—

He guesses what she is thinking and warns, pleading: "Korra—don't do this."

"Don't do _what_, Amon? Face what you really are?"

He does not look any more surprised than he has been in the past several minutes, but he does look somewhat hurt by this address. "Korra—it's still me—I'm still your—"

"'Dad'? That's a _sick joke_." On the last words, she swirls her arm in an arc toward him, and the soup follows.

He sidesteps the hot, salty deluge, only thrown off by her own unsteady guidance. He moves with the same agility she saw at the Revelation, closing the distance between them, but unlike the benders, she is ready to meet him with her bare hands.

For the first time, they fight without holding back, not worrying about hurting the other. Korra gives it her all, the same way she would if she were fighting any ordinary enemy. Amon responds in kind, moving faster than she can. Each of them, at different moments, slides on the soup-slick floor and has to recover their balance, giving the other an opening.

She deters a few of his attempts to grab her, but he manages to duck behind her and jab her arm in the right places. Then Korra learns how it feels to have her chi blocked: as though something has been lost, cut off from her consciousness. Now she cannot bend with that arm. But, true to her Equalist mentors' teachings, she does not need bending to fight.

She turns on one leg and lifts the other to kick him away—but the soup under her foot makes her slide, and she falls on her back. She turns this into an advantage by kicking out Amon's legs, knocking him to the floor as well.

For the first time, a noise of frustration escapes his lips; he lunges at her, and she tries to firebend; the flames that come out of her good hand are strong and hot enough to make both of them fall back in fright. He recovers before she does, and the moment the flames have dissipated, he falls upon her, grabbing her wrists and pinning her down until she knocks her head against the floor. Through the pain, she senses that he is heavier than she expected, suddenly straddling her stomach.

Korra has the sudden thought that if Mako could see this, it would look horrible.

Her next thought, even more sickening, is to wonder if Mako's suspicion of domestic violence was not too far off the mark.

She struggles anew, tries to roll and get his weight off her, but he holds her down firmly. "Korra, hold still and look at me! _Look at me!_" She stops moving her head and meets his glare, but still tries to move her wrists. "Korra, I can't let you hurt yourself _or_ _me._ If I let you up, will you please _calm yourself_?"

He is asking for complaisance, a truce. She glares at him, unforgiving and uncompromising. When she refuses to answer, he grunts, looking resigned, and holds both of her hands in one of his in order to use his other hand to jab her shoulder. This time, more than just her chi is blocked: her strength seeps away, and the world turns dark.

* * *

Mako's neck and shoulders feel lighter without his scarf, not as though a burden has been lifted, but as though a blanket has been pulled off him. He supposes he could have just asked her to find her own kind of signal, but some part of him—however superstitious or sentimental it might be—really associates the scarf with luck and comfort and safety. And he does want to see Korra again, as it will hopefully enable her to do.

One thing this night, and the past several weeks since he met Asami, taught him is that danger can threaten anyone, even those he views, or used to view, as ridiculously blessed. When he saw the well-cared-for girl passing out food at a soup kitchen, he saw her as an alien, someone who never knew the kind of stress and hardship and loss that he and Bolin dealt with. Even meeting her again as a teenager, he saw her as belonging to a different world, one soft and, if not luxurious, at least safe. But today, he saw a girl as anxious and vulnerable as any orphan on the street.

Mako usually avoids Butakha unless meeting him is necessary, to pay rent or take a loan or pick up winnings from a victorious match. But when he gets back to the Arena, he goes up to Butakha's office, and asks to use the telephone.

Butakha puts the call through, to make sure Mako is not lying about who he communicates with on his phone. Mako ignores the quip about having a girlfriend, and waits while the Satos' butler answers and then puts Asami on the line.

"Hey, Asami."

"Hi Mako! I thought you guys didn't have a phone?"

"I'm using Butakha's." Mako will have to pay him back later, but he thinks checking on a friend's well-being is worth the expense.

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I think … Korra might be in some kind of trouble."

"What?"

"She came here today, asking for help. She wanted to find out more about her adoption, and she found out some stuff that upset her … I don't understand it all, and she doesn't either. When I tried to talk to her, she seemed scared of how her dad would react, and …" Mako trails off, not sure how to convey the gravity of the experience without making Asami more worried than necessary.

"And what?"

"I guess … it seemed like more than just regular anxiety." He pauses, still unsure how well-founded his concern is, and wondering how much Asami might know about the whole thing. "Do you know Korra's dad?"

Asami does not answer immediately. When she does, her voice is hesitant, doubtful. "I've met him, but … now that I think about it, I haven't seen him in years. He's kind of private."

"Do they get along?"

"They always seemed to, when I saw them together. I don't know if things have changed over the past few years …"

Butakha clears his throat and opens his large pocket watch. Mako hastens, "Listen, I don't have much time to talk. Will you just check on Korra? Try to talk to her? You two are pretty close, so I thought maybe she'll talk more to you."

"I will. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome. Oh, and I told Korra to hang—something red in her window if she needed help but couldn't tell anyone. Look for it, if you go there."

"Oh. … Okay."

"Thanks, sweetie."

"You're welcome. Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

In the space between sleep and consciousness, Korra experiences what seems to be a repetition, or continuation, of her recent dreams. This time she attaches the name Yakone to the sinister man in the courtroom, and recognizes the police chief, Toph Beifong, and the Southern Water Tribe representative, Sokka. She views everything from Aang's perspective—she knows it is him when he sees blue arrows tattooed on the back of her (or rather his) hands.

She wakes up on the sofa, with pillows under her head. She is surprised to find her arms and legs unrestrained; she was expecting ropes or handcuffs. But as soon as she sits up, Noatak is there, jabbing her arms again, cutting off her bending before she can collect enough wits and strength to use it. Then he walks back to the kitchen.

Korra sits up slowly, wobbling on her arms, and surveys the apartment. Noatak is on his hands and knees, wiping up the last of the soup from the floor. He goes about his work but watches her out of the corner of his eye as she rises from the sofa and walks shakily back to the kitchen.

"What did you think fighting would accomplish?" he asks, sounding irritated.

She does not answer. The truth is that, for the first time since she was very small, she was not fighting with a clear goal; she fought impulsively, fueled by her emotion rather than any achievable purpose. She might have continued until she hurt him, or subdued him—after that, she does not know what she would have done. She wonders what she should do now. Part of her wants to tackle him; part of her wants to know more; still another part wants to run from the apartment and never come back. She cannot imagine spending another night here.

When he is finished cleaning, Noatak stands up and faces her. "You wouldn't let me explain. Will you consent to listen now?"

She laughs, harsh and slightly hysterical. "I don't have any reason to believe anything you say anymore."

He pulls out two chairs at the table and sits down in one of them. "You want to throw away thirteen years of love and trust, because of one act?"

"It hasn't been just _one act_. You've been lying to me, controlling me, hiding me away, keeping my powers under wraps so I could never use them against you."

He looks hard at her. "I could have taken your bending long ago, Korra. I can do it now, if you leave me no other option." He is threatening her, and though she will not back down, Korra calculates that he is the one with more power. If she tries to attack him or run away, he can take her bending for good—the thought makes her recoil, because now that she knows she has such abilities, she does not want to lose them.

Noatak is still speaking calmly, trying to placate her in a roundabout way. "I could have kept you locked away in a prison. I could have sent you to an orphanage or sold you on the black market. Don't think I didn't consider every option!" He takes a breath, and she cannot discern whether he is angry or in pain. Perhaps both. "But I didn't do any of those things. I didn't want to leave your fate in anyone else's hands—"

"Yeah, 'cause you didn't want there to be any chance of the Avatar finding out who she was and rising up against your revolution. That's all I've been to you—a threat you turned into a tool!"

"You're halfway there, Korra, but not entirely accurate."

She finally sits down, folding her arms and gesturing for him to continue. "Enlighten me, then."

Noatak pauses, measuring his words. He is good with words, but he usually organizes them into prepared speeches, rather than speaking off the cuff, as he must now. "I have loved three people in my entire life. Before you, I only ever loved my mother and my brother."

This is the last thing Korra expected, and she cannot help being intrigued, because he so rarely talks about his past. She cannot stop herself from asking, "What about—"

"My father had very specific hopes for my brother and me. Hopes that drove him to … unspeakable harshness. If there was any love in him, it was gone by the time I entered my teens. I left home to get away from him. I lived alone … until I found you."

She raises a hand, jabbing an accusing finger at him. "If you're fishing for pity—"

"Listen to me!" She falls silent at his thunderous tone. His face is intense, almost glaring, but trying to remain composed in spite of so many emotions. "I didn't—want—to be like him," he says, his words clipped. "I didn't plan to force you into any life. I wanted to give you the choice."

"You're still limiting me. You're not letting me be the Avatar—"

"Because _you already made your choice_. You chose to join the Equalists, of your own free will, knowing that if you betrayed them you would be punished." He pauses while she remembers this fact, recalling the conversation they had two years ago, the night she was arrested at a protest. "You knew what you were getting into, when you chose this."

"Actually …" She stops, aware that she is treading on dangerous ground. "… I didn't know I was getting into a potential war. That's what Councilman Tenzin says this will turn into." Her statement sounds like it could be either a confession or an accusation.

"I'm sorry you misunderstood," he answers, making it sound like her fault. Then he moves back to his original point. "There's some truth in what you said, about my hope for you, but that's not the reason I kept you. I was tired of being alone. What I always told you, about choosing to love you—that was the truth."

Korra looks at him, her indignation calm now. "You never loved me for _me_. You only loved me all these years because it was convenient, because it would make me loyal to you and your _cause._ The only thing you _loved_ about me was the fact that you had control over me—over _the Avatar_."

He leans forward, giving her a hard, earnest look. "The spirits chose me to be the equalizer, and they chose you to be the Avatar. It seemed only right that you and I should work together."

"You could have done that without kidnapping me."

"You really think so? You and your parents were all benders. From what I heard, your"—his mouth twists, and he enunciates the word pointedly—"_biological_ father prided himself on his waterbending—he built an entire military career on it. I didn't imagine any of you would want to help me. I'm sure that, had you grown up as a bender, you would want nothing to do with me. You would probably prize your bending so much you would want to stop me at any cost."

At some level, Korra can see his point, but she stands firm. "None of that makes a difference. You attacked my parents, you took me—their only child—and you _lied_ to me every day for over a decade. Can you even comprehend how _messed up_ that is?" She takes a breath, feeling she has said everything she wanted to, and wanting to get out of there. "Well, it's not going to be like that anymore."

He raises his eyebrows at her. "Do you plan to leave me, Korra?"

She stands up, pushing her chair back. "Maybe I should." She might as well be lighting a bomb, but if she is quick and clean she might get away before it explodes.

"And just where will you go? To the South Pole?"

She would like that, but she cannot let him know that, since he might try to track her down there. "I haven't decided. All I know is that I can't trust you, and the world has been waiting for its Avatar to come back."

He stands too. "If you reveal yourself now, you'll be forced to fight against us."

"Against _you_, you mean."

He ignores the correction, and points a finger at her, then at the table. "Three years ago, we sat at _this_ table, and you made a promise. You pledged your loyalty to the Equalists, and swore that the secret of my identity would never leave this apartment."

"Why should I honor a promise made to someone who was lying to me? You—you pulled me into this revolution under false pretenses."

"You'll keep quiet, as you always have. But you won't do it for my sake; you'll do it for the Equalists. For all non-benders. They need me to lead them."

"What if I don't care?"

"I don't believe you're so selfish as to—"

"Selfish?" Her voice is shrill with incredulity. "Who's the selfish one here?"

He looks at her hard. "Do you want to see me put on trial? Sentenced to life imprisonment, or exile, or death? Hundreds of brothers and sisters in the ranks sent to prison?"

Korra almost falters, but regains her resolve when she makes a comparison in her mind. "You're planning to hurt hundreds of benders. How is that any different?"

"If you don't care about scores of non-benders—do you care about those two benders Asami calls her friends?"

Korra freezes at this, and Noatak knows he has found a weakness. He goes on, in a tone both challenging and contemplative, "How would Asami feel if they suddenly disappeared? Of course, they'll lose their bending eventually, but how and when is undecided. We could use some practice partners for the novice chi-blockers, and test subjects for Hiroshi's new weapons …"

"You. Are. _Sick_." Korra feels sick herself, as she can barely get the words out.

"That's not the worst I can do … Avatar." There is no joy in him, but no regret either. He means it, and Korra knows better than to test his sincerity on this point. He only has to make a phone call and the Arena will be surrounded by Equalists within the hour. The boys could be captured sooner than she could reach them or the police.

Feeling defeated, she sinks to her knees, showing her compliance.

"Good. We have an understanding." Noatak resumes his seat, and drums his fingers on the table. "You're right about one point: some things _will_ have to change. You're a liability, not only to me but to everyone who has worked for our cause. I can't betray them by giving you the chance to turn us all in. So until further notice, you are confined to this apartment."

"You're _grounding_ me?"

"Unless you'd prefer a cell! That _could_ be arranged!"

She almost agrees to it; it would feel more fitting to be treated like a political prisoner. Maybe that _is_ what she is becoming.

"Obviously, you can't use your bending. If I have to, I will personally block your chi."

"Why don't you just take it permanently?" she spits. "It'd save you a lot of effort."

He tilts his head slightly. "There may be a way you can use it for good. For our cause."

This surprises her, and raises her suspicion. "How?"

"I can't tell you yet."

"You're not making any sense. If you want me to use it, you have to let me practice it."

"We'll see. Good behavior may merit some rewards."

"Ugh!" Korra does not even know what angle he is going for, a father disciplining a difficult child, or a jailer conditioning a prisoner. Either treatment seems humiliating.

On the other hand, the fact that he is taking measures to control her indicates that he is afraid of her. This entire situation—the fact that he has gone so far to prevent her from opposing him—proves that he fears her abilities. She has the power to—what? Defeat him in combat? Rally opposition to his revolution?

The word _counterrevolution_ enters her mind, and she finds herself liking the sound of it. But it sounds like a double negative, like siding with the original enemy. Is that what she is doing? Is that what she wants? The pain pulsing in her head intensifies when she starts to think about the two sides of the war that is brewing.

Noatak is still outlining the details of her confinement. "You won't go on missions, or outings with your friends—don't look at me like that, I'm only being prudent while you're in this emotional state."

"Oh, there's some irony: you don't trust me now that I don't trust you."

He looks at her with a pensive expression. "I _want_ to trust you, Korra. I would rather be your father than your captor."

"So you want everything to stay the way it's been?"

"What would you want to change?"

Korra does not dare to voice the possibilities she thought of over the past twenty-four hours. _I could look for my real parents. I could meet bending masters and learn to use my powers. I could help keep peace or whatever the Avatar is supposed to do._

"If you made yourself an enemy of the revolution, I'd have to treat you like an enemy—keep you tied or chained, and locked away. Neither of us want that."

She glares at him. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"If you defied me, and I had to physically stop you, then yes, I would. I will do whatever it takes to keep the revolution alive. So, knowing that, will you cooperate?"

Korra is silent for a long moment, glowering. She has always hated the idea of being silent in the face of unfairness. (She now wonders how much of that was her own nature and how much was his brainwashing.) But retreating means staying alive, gathering strength to fight on another day. She will not surrender, but she cannot win tonight.

"You always said the only people you can trust are your family. But you also said we get to choose our family." When she pauses, Noatak reaches for her hand, but she stands and knocks her chair aside. "I'll cooperate to protect the family _I_ chose." She did not choose Noatak or even her biological parents, but she did choose her friends, as much as they chose her.

She strides out of the kitchen. Noatak does not speak until she is almost out of the room. "Korra." She stops, almost against her own will, but she does not look at him. He speaks to her anyway. "I love you. Don't doubt that."

Korra clenches her fists. She refuses to look at him, but she turns her head sideways so he can hear her response. "Even if that's true," she says, "you love your revolution more." She walks away before he can coherently refute her assertion, or, more likely, affirm it with his silence.

Once she reaches her bedroom, Korra slams her bedroom door shut and leans back against it, fighting the urge to cry. Tears leak out from her eyes, but she will not let him hear her sobbing.

She looks around the room she grew up in. During all their years together, they never changed residences. The same furniture is there, with a few additions fished out of trash piles and flea markets. In one corner is a small chest with an array of valuables and mementoes, trinkets she found or received as gifts. On her walls there are posters, some bearing Equalist slogans, others advertising trips to exotic places. Next to the window hangs a sheet of cork with news articles and magazine clippings pinned on it.

Korra storms over to the wall, tears down the Equalist propaganda posters, and rips them apart. She curses Amon's revolution, his ability, his idealistic dreams, his utilitarian worldview—everything that drove him to take her and lie to her. She wishes her chi was flowing so she could burn the posters, incinerate them with her bare hands, but for now she rips them up beyond recognition, beyond utility.

Finally she sits among the shredded paper and looks up at the now blank spaces on the walls. This is her room, it has been since she was a little girl, newly arrived in the city. Noatak made it nice, let her personalize it, made her think it belonged to her. But really, she belongs to it. To him. This room may be hers, but it is—and has always been—meant to imprison her.

Korra feels cold, so she doffs her soup-stained clothes, dons winter pajamas, and wraps Mako's scarf around her neck. She pounds her fists and palms against each other, wishing she could firebend—she has already forgotten whether the heat came from the flame or from her inner energy. It must have been the latter, because heat is needed to make fire—she knows that from old camping trips. She is too restless to do anything productive. She would like to sleep, to temporarily escape this nightmare, but she doubts she will be able to sleep well tonight.

She hears Amon's voice in the other rooms. She opens her door slightly, and sees him on the phone, calling the Lieutenant to make up some excuse for her indefinite leave of absence, and arrange for surveillance around the Arena. Korra hears him say adamantly, "I don't care, I want people watching at all hours, on all sides. Rent boats if you have to." Now the boys will be watched, all because of her. Korra wonders if he will assign guards to their own apartment building, to make sure she does not leave; but then, that might be too close for Equalists to be near their leader when he is not incognito. Their presence would make it difficult for Noatak to leave in order to act as Amon. But, from what Korra can hear, he does not give such an order. The threat of harm to her friends is enough to keep her in check.

She wonders if she has only made things worse, not only for herself, but for her friends. Before tonight, Amon did not care one way or another about them, but now they are his leverage over her.

Korra wraps each end of the scarf around her hands and buries her face in the fabric. It smells like Mako, and as her tears stain the fabric, she wonders how much of his blood, sweat, and tears it carries. She thinks about everything they did today, all the words that passed between them. He didn't understand her situation, but he tried to help as best he could. Korra wishes he, or any of her friends, could be with her now—anyone who might give her consolation or advice or company.

She has heard of praying, appealing to spirits who have power over certain parts of nature. Do the Avatars work the same way? Can she pray to people she used to be? Would that be praying to herself? Or do they exist in the spirit world, on some metaphysical plane? The reincarnation thing barely makes sense to her. At this moment, she feels alone, and would very much like to believe that someone can hear and see her now.

_Aang—Avatars—whoever you are. Help me protect my friends. Help me do the right thing—whatever that is._

While she lies in bed, willing the dark hours to go by, she thinks about her parents, and repeats their names in her mind. _Senna. Tonraq_. What did she call them when she was younger? Mommy and Daddy? Mama and Papa? She tries to recall what they looked like, and attaches the titles _Mom_ and _Dad_ to the dim pictures in her mind's eye. She should have tried looking for more information about them at the library; now it may be weeks before Noatak lets her out of the apartment, if he ever decides to trust her with that much freedom.

Korra wonders if Senna and Tonraq had any children after they lost her. Did they pin all their hope on her return, or did they decide to move on? And which is worse? She does not know what to think of these phantom children who may or may not exist. Having siblings might be nice—she would like to have the kind of camaraderie Mako and Bolin share. The closest thing she has, she supposes, is her friendship with Asami.

She wonders if she will ever see them again. Mako left his scarf with her so she would have an excuse to see them, but of course Amon will not let her do that now. She holds the fabric against her cheek and neck, tucking it between her skin and her pillow, and imagines that he is close by, and Bolin and Asami too. She wishes she told them more, enough that they could deduce her situation, if only so that they would understand why she cannot be their friend anymore. No, that is not quite accurate. She is being their friend by staying quiet. She is doing this to protect them. She is their friend. The hard part is that they will not know it.

She hears the familiar sound of Noatak's footsteps on the wood floor approaching her bedroom. She pushes the scarf under her pillow so he will not see it. When he opens the door, Korra pretends to be asleep, even though he can probably tell the difference. She grips the scarf in her fist, forcing herself to be still.

Instead of calling out her bluff, he kneels by her bed on the side that she is facing, strokes her hair, and kisses her cheek. He has done this hundreds of times, but now his lips and hand linger, as though it might be the last time. Perhaps he is afraid that it is.

As he stands and leaves, Korra wishes she knew whether the gesture was genuine fondness, or an attempt to guilt her into forgiving him. She will never again know what level of sincerity he is showing. The trust that she has placed in him for thirteen years is gone, forever.

* * *

Music: "Stay With Me" from _Into the Woods_ by Stephen Sondheim, "Burn" from _Hamilton_ by Lin-Manuel Miranda

Acknowledgments: Thanks to iruka-2013 for reading and giving feedback on my work!

Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter took so long! I was finishing up a semester, and then struggled to piece this chapter's action and dialogue together. Fight scenes are a pain, and at the last minute I decided to put Mako and Asami's scene in the middle instead of at the end. Please review to let me know what you think of these decisions and what might be done to improve this chapter. Thanks and God bless!


	12. Dangerous to Know

_Published August 12, 2016  
_

"Dangerous to Know"

* * *

My stars shine darkly over me. The malignancy of my fate might perhaps distemper yours. Therefore I shall crave of your leave that I may bear my evils alone. It were a bad recompense for your love to lay any of them on you. ~ William Shakespeare, _Twelfth Night, or What You Will_, II, i

* * *

Korra sleeps intermittently throughout the night. The sun shining through her window blinds wakes her up, but she remains in bed for a while, stretching and groaning as the previous day's events come back to her. She is hungry, and she has to go to the bathroom, but she does not want to step outside and see _him_. At least not as though everything is normal.

She wonders if she could go on a hunger strike—maybe that would give her some leverage. Whether or not he cares about Korra herself, it wouldn't be advantageous to the revolution if the Avatar were to die and be reincarnated, would it? Then he would have to start a fresh search in the vast Earth Kingdom. Plus, the new Avatar might remember Amon and the Equalists from Korra's experiences, the way Korra somehow remembered Yakone from Aang's experiences. It only takes her a minute to reject the idea of starving herself: he would probably force-feed her if he had to.

Her empty stomach and full bladder convince her to pull herself out of bed. She still has Mako's scarf wrapped around one wrist, and she deliberates what to do with it. She cannot let Amon find it—the boys' position is precarious enough without him misconstruing odd gestures of kindness—and she does not trust him to respect the privacy of her room anymore. The only place he (probably) will not search is in the clothes she wears. So she wraps the scarf around her abdomen, tucks in the ends, and looks for a shirt to wear over it.

Though they have never dressed to identify with any particular nation, Korra has always liked the color blue best and preferred it for her clothes. She previously thought it was because it matched her eyes, but maybe it also brought a sense of familiarity after she was taken from the Water Tribe. Now, to honor her parents and the life she should have had with them, she puts on some blue garments, and some rope bracelets she braided years ago. Maybe, if she can find the right materials, she can make armbands, like those she has seen Water Tribe immigrants wear.

When she enters the hallway, she sees Amon sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper, so casually that it could be any ordinary day. He glances up as she shuffles to the bathroom, but does not wish her good morning in his usual manner. Korra wonders if she should, or could, refuse to speak to him again; but she still has questions and arguments to hash out with him.

On a whim, she tries firebending in the privacy of the bathroom, but no flame appears. Amon must have blocked her chi again before she woke up. Figures.

He steps into the kitchen area at the same time she does. Up close now, she sees that he has dark circles under his eyes. Korra wonders if he stayed up deliberately to keep tabs on her, or simply had trouble sleeping. What could keep Amon awake at night? Guilt about the past, or anxiety about the future?

"I took the day off," he informs her, answering her first, unspoken question. This is somewhat impressive: Amon having a vacation day when the revolution is so imminent and all his associates are busy as buzzard-wasps. That goes to show how determined he is to keep Korra closely watched and under control. She supposes if he assigned a baby-sitter, she could try to sweet talk whoever guarded her, or worse, reveal Amon's dark secret. She doesn't imagine his followers would take the news of their leader being a kidnapper very well. But then again, maybe they would be glad of it, since he did it to keep her, the Avatar, the world's most powerful bender, out of the way.

The world's most powerful bender. Stuck in a tiny apartment. Too afraid to use her own bending. Her fingers already itch, wanting to be doused in water, sift through earth, or play with fire. They already have air, but she cannot imagine how to bend that, besides various ways of breathing: huffing, panting, whistling, blowing raspberries.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

She doesn't answer, but gets a cup from the cupboard and pours herself some breakfast tea from the kettle on the stove.

"Fruit? Rice? Jerky? If you want, we could make sweet buns."

She gets a spoon and mixes some honey in the tea, and takes small sips, getting used to the temperature. She keeps her face turned away from him, as much as she can while keeping him in her peripheral vision.

"You can't ignore me forever, Korra."

She breaks her silence then. "I don't think you want to hear the things I have to say." She finally meets his gaze then, each of them sizing the other up. She thinks of a compromise: "I'll talk if you answer my questions."

"I thought you exhausted those."

"Oh, no; there's a lot that you haven't explained."

He grunts, then sits down at the table. "Very well. Fire away."

She shoots him a look, annoyed by the ironic idiom. Then she posits: "Why did you never take my bending?"

He looks at her, and answers calmly and matter-of-factly. "I don't know what effect it would have on you. Your powers are not only physical. I thought equalizing you might take away your spiritual powers."

"And you care about that because …"

"I think you might be able to take people's bending away."

Korra steps backwards, staggering as though he hit her. "What?"

"When we first met—"

"When you took me." She will no longer tolerate him glossing over that circumstance.

"Back then, I didn't have the ability. But I knew you might have that ability, and that I could show you how to use it."

Korra gapes at him. She has that power? Because Aang had it? "So … you wanted _me_ to be the 'equalizer'?" In her mind's eye, she envisions herself as a little girl, and him dressing her up like a miniature Amon. She feels anger, again, at his presumption, but stills it to focus on her line of questioning. "What about when you found out you could do it yourself? You don't need me to do it so long as you can."

"I thought, if anything should happen to me, there ought to be one other person who can take my place and lead the world to equality. And there is no one else I would rather entrust that responsibility to."

She is furious. He only let her keep her power so she could use it for his own purposes. He did not just want to contain her power, he wanted to use it. He still wants that. She is not just a repurposed tool; she is a secret weapon.

He looks at her imploringly, as though her anger saddens him. "Can't you understand, Korra? If you had been raised by benders, grown up working alongside them, they would have made you fight against us. But we are the ones who will bring true balance to the world, and that is what you—the Avatar—should be doing. I wanted to give you the chance to do the right thing."

"The right thing," Korra repeats. What does that even mean? Does he think rightness is obvious and absolute? She remembers her conversation with Asami—was that just the day before yesterday?—and their talk of taking sides. _"The most evil people in the world are the ones who don't realize they're evil."_

"What if what's right for one person isn't right for another?" Once she says it, Korra realizes the question could carry two meanings: differences in perception leading to disagreement about what is right; and situations in which the same action helps one person but harms another.

Amon gives her a withering look of disapproval. "Haven't we discussed this in your lessons? Relativism doesn't help anyone."

"You don't have the judgment to teach me right and wrong. All you've taught me is hatred for benders and compassion for non-benders. But it's not that simple. And now I know I'm a bender—four times over—am I supposed to hate myself now? Do you think _that's_ right?"

"It's not yourself you should hate, Korra. It's your ability. You know what bending does, what it drives people to do—destroy, oppress, injure—"

"You're forgetting heal, build, and sustain. Now that I think about it—the elements are just like people, they can be either good or bad, based on what they do."

He looks at her with amazement that might actually be genuine. "Can this be? In a single day my daughter has gone from a steadfast soldier to a deluded Avatar? You think bending will help the world?"

"I don't know that eliminating bending will. There'll still be people who choose to hurt and take advantage of others. Nothing that you or I do will change that."

"Then what do you see as the solution?"

"To what? Evil? I don't think there's any way to get rid of it forever. But to keep balance—to keep evil at bay, help people live in harmony—the government and law enforcement do need to change. And if I _had_ grown up knowing I'm the Avatar, and met people in power, maybe by now I would have done some things to change the system."

"You think too well of yourself—or your conscience, I should say."

"You think too poorly of the Avatar—s." She adds the plural belatedly. "Look at Kyoshi and Aang—they fought tyrants, they knew when things needed to change."

"Aang did the same thing I do. He took away people's bending. His only mistake was saving it as a last resort, for benders who proved too powerful to contain. I'm preventing benders from reaching that point. You can follow his example as well as mine, Korra. I can teach you what I do. I'd say it's your duty as the supposed peacekeeper of the world."

Korra gapes, incredulous, wondering if he really means what he is saying, or is just trying to keep her on his side. She does not know what to think. This man has manipulated and lied to her more than anyone else in the world. How can she believe him? How can she give in when she only just began to stand up to him?

Does he really see Equalism as the hope for the greater good, something that justifies all the bad things he has done? That mindset is frightening, despite its ostensible rationality.

She thinks, then, of the crime she cannot forgive: taking her from her parents. As good as Amon has been to her, he put two innocent people through the devastating pain of losing their only child. She has seen glimpses of such tragedies in the hospital and soup kitchen. She imagines her parents—trying to reconstruct her vague memories of their faces—crying after she was taken, and becoming hollow and melancholy with each year that she failed to return. They are still waiting for her. So is the White Lotus. So is the world.

Perhaps she can strike some deal with him, to keep his secret and protect his liberty in exchange for the chance to meet her parents and learn from bending masters—

But then, as he said, they would expect her to be on their side, to defend benders by opposing the Equalists.

Korra hates the idea of doing nothing, but it seems taking any action will inevitably hurt someone she cares for, or used to care for, or should care for.

"Can I have some time to think it over?" She does need time to figure out what, if anything, she should do regarding the war. But she knows one thing she wants—in fact, feels obligated—to do: find her biological parents. Of course he will not allow her to, she will have to attempt it secretly, but she will only be able to leave him if he trusts her enough to allow her some freedom.

Amon nods, and takes his tea and newspaper back to the living room. He seems determined to stay there, at a vantage point that allows him to surveil the entryway and all the doors to the inner rooms. Not wanting to stay in his presence a second longer than necessary, Korra eats a quick breakfast, brushes her teeth in the bathroom, and then returns to her bedroom. She cleans up the shredded posters on her floor, and considers cleaning her room, something she usually hates to do but might bring a sense of cleansing or purging. Korra decides against it, and instead sits against her bed to think over her options.

If she were to rejoin the Equalists, she could try spying on them, maybe feed the police some information—but even as she thinks it, she knows it would be impossible, with Amon breathing down her neck. He would always be watching her, or have someone else watching her; and if she were caught, she would not be the only one to suffer the consequences: Mako and Bolin would suffer, unless she can find a way to warn them and get them out of the Equalists' reach.

She is not protecting Mako and Bolin just for Asami's sake; it is for her own sake, because she cares about them. As far as she knows, Amon is not entirely aware of the distinction. She must take care that he does not learn how much they mean to her personally.

Asami herself represents another complication. If Korra ever betrayed the Equalists, eventually the police would find Hiroshi's work, and if they arrested him, Asami would have no family left. Korra cannot be responsible for that.

The sound of their doorbell startles both of the apartment's inhabitants. Curious, Korra stands in her doorway to listen. Amon mutters suspiciously, "Who would they let come this close?" He must mean the Equalists he posted as guards in and around the building. They probably don't know that their leader lives here, but they are guarding it on his orders, and they must know that their charges are important. They would only let someone harmless get this close to them. Amon presses the intercom button and speaks into it, his tone nonchalant. "Who is it?"

"Hi. It's Asami Sato."

Korra's heart leaps with a strange combination of joy and fear. Amon glances back at her with raised eyebrows, but changes his tone to one of amiability. "Ah, Asami. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. I was hoping to talk to Korra. Is she home?"

"She is, but she's under the weather; in fact she's been in her room all morning, trying to sleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"That's kind of you, but no."

There is a pause. "Can I talk to her for one minute?"

"I think it's better to let her rest; but I'll give her your regards."

A moment passes before Asami responds. "Okay. Thank you."

"Have a good day, Asami." He turns away from the intercom and faces Korra. "Your friend is very considerate."

"She doesn't know anything. And if you ask me, Hiroshi needs to tell her what he does. And once she knows the truth, _I_ won't have to lie to her anymore."

Amon shakes his head. "I fear she's too sympathetic with the enemy. She will learn the truth when the tide turns in our favor."

Korra retreats back into her room and flops onto the bed, wondering what she can do about this situation. He cannot keep her here forever. But if she can't leave for the present, how is she supposed to make use of her time?

Suddenly there is a knocking noise at her window, a light but deliberate rapping. Korra springs up on all fours, like Naga when she senses someone approaching or observing her—

The spectator looking through the glass is Asami.

_What the heck?_

Is this a normal thing for friends to do? Should she have come to Asami's bedroom window in the past? No, that is a ridiculous idea: the Sato mansion doesn't have this kind of fire escape, and they have so much security she could never sneak around it like this without being stopped.

Asami doesn't know that the building is being watched, that whatever they say or do will be witnessed. Yet—it dawns on Korra—as long as she doesn't give anything away, they won't intervene with Asami, because she is Hiroshi Sato's daughter and not supposed to know about the Equalists.

Korra opens her window a few inches and kneels to speak through the opening, gripping the sill. "What are you doing, stalking me?" she hisses through the gap.

"I'm sorry—" Asami begins in a conversational volume.

"Keep your voice down!"

She finishes quietly: "—but the way you acted the other day really made Mako worried."

"Mako sent you?" Korra can't help feeling touched, because it seems that he really cares about her, but also worried, because she does not want Amon to know that the boys care about her.

"He just asked me to make sure you were okay. You would do the same for us, if you thought we were … dealing with something hard."

Korra thinks back to the previous day, tries to keep all the known and hidden facts straight in her mind. All Mako knows is that she suspected her father may have kidnapped her. "Is that all he thinks? That I'm going through a hard time?"

"He's pretty sure you are; he just isn't sure of the details."

"Does he think I'm in some kind of domestic violence situation?"

Asami hesitates, as though she is either indecisive, embarrassed, or trying not to be offensive. "He didn't use those words, but yeah, that was kind of the vibe you gave him." She holds up a hand before Korra can make a defense. "The boys have known people from bad home situations—"

"So have I!"

"—they can tell when someone is trying to cover stuff up, or protect someone who hurts them. And the way your dad lied just now, to keep me from seeing you … well, you can't blame us for wondering. Can you stand up for a minute?"

Korra obliges, only to prove a point. Asami's eyes search Korra's exposed skin, which bears less than her usual number of cuts and bruises, since she has not gone on an assignment in so many days. To prove how fit she is, she does some jumping jacks, flexing her arms and legs with ease. "You don't look hurt," Asami admits.

"I'm not," Korra says, sitting down again. It is true in a physical sense, but not an emotional one.

"Did you and your dad have a fight or something?"

"… Yeah, we did."

"Was it bad?"

"Trust me, Asami, it wasn't bad the way _you're_ worrying—but you still don't want to know. I appreciate that you guys care so much, but you can't do stuff like this. You have no idea what kind of risk you're taking."

"By what? Reaching out? Being friends?"

"Yes, exactly that." Asami looks taken aback by her bluntness. Korra immediately feels contrite. "I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt your feelings—and it's not because of anything you've done—but you have to stay away from now on."

Despite the gentleness of her words, Asami looks hurt. "Why?" she demands.

"I can't—there is so much to this you don't understand—"

"We might if you tried telling us," Asami cuts in.

"Keep your voice down!" Korra hisses. They glare at each other, until Korra says, "I need to figure this out on my own."

"Korra—"

"Asami, please. Just go. _Please_." Something about those words feels familiar, as though she has used them before in a similar situation, sending away a well-intentioned friend.

Reluctantly Asami stands, but she presses, "Is there anything you need?"

Then Korra thinks of something. "Actually …" Asami pauses, looking wary and almost hopeful, which causes Korra more pain. "… there _is_ something you can do for me, since you're here." Korra steps away from the window and goes to her jewelry box. She opens the drawer that holds her money, and extracts twenty yuans. Then she stands against the outer wall of her bedroom, out of Asami's line of vision, reaches under her shirt, and unwinds Mako's scarf from her torso. She carries both items back to the window.

Asami looks newly startled, seeing the familiar accessory. "Is that—"

"Mako's, yeah. Will you return it to him? He said it'd be a signal, and give me an excuse to visit him and Bolin, but that's not going to happen, so I don't want to keep it from him. The money is what he loaned me yesterday."

Asami gives her a hard look; her makeup accentuates her narrowed eyes and compressed lips. She takes the scarf and money through the gap, but pauses as the items change hands. "We match," she says, raising her left wrist, on which she wears the rope bracelet Korra braided for her years ago, the same night Asami herself made the one Korra is wearing. It was on her thirteenth birthday, Korra remembers, so recent and so long ago, a time when they whispered secrets in complete confidence. So much has changed since then.

Asami breaks the moment as abruptly as the started it, and stuffs the money and scarf unceremoniously into her purse. Then she folds her arms, her eyes flickering between the fire escape beneath her and Korra in front of her. "You know, when we were little, I sometimes got the feeling that our dads wanted us to be friends, because they were the ones who encouraged us to spend time together."

"… Yeah." Korra has no idea where Asami is going with this.

"I just want to say … you haven't always been my closest friend, but you've been my friend for longer than anyone else I've known. You didn't become my friend because circumstances kept us together—that's how it's always been for my friends at school. Unlike them, you were my friend by choice—it took effort to reach out and make plans and actually get together. And I never judged you for the things that other kids thought were weird—like being adopted, or being home-schooled. I just … it hurts that you're keeping secrets from me, and brushing off the boys and me when all we're trying to do is help. We're only concerned because we care about you as our friend."

Every sentence pulls up more of the guilt that Korra has tried to suppress since that first double date. Her friends have every right to feel hurt, and even more reasons to mistrust her than they are aware of.

"I'm sorry," she says truthfully. "I don't want you to think I don't care about you guys just as much as you do about me. I want what's best for you. That's just not in line with what you want from me."

Asami is still upset at this. "Now you're just talking in riddles."

"Sorry." Korra gropes for the right words to both console and convince her friend. She takes a deep breath, and makes a decision. "Look, the boys can't know anything. But if _you_ want to know—well, you can't know the whole truth, but you can know part of it. I think you deserve that."

"Know and deserve what?"

"It's not really my place to tell you. It's your dad's place."

Asami blinks at her, bewildered. "My dad?"

"He's not who you think he is. He and my dad have a secret in common."

"What kind of secret?"

"Look, if I keep talking, I'm going to end up saying too much. Just … ask your dad to tell you the truth about his work. But don't mention me, or my dad. Things could turn out really badly if you do. I think you'll understand, if your dad decides to tell you the truth. But if he doesn't, it's probably better for us not to see each other, at least not for a while."

"If you say so." Asami reaches her hand through the gap, and Korra reaches back to hold it, palm to palm, like a handshake but with a stronger, more sincere grip. "Take care of yourself."

"You too. Tell the boys, it was nice knowing them."

"I will. Goodbye, Korra."

"Goodbye." Korra watches as Asami climbs down the fire escape and disappears around the corner, looking as reluctant as Mako was when he left her the night before. What happens next is beyond her control, and that brings her a strange sense of relief, because it spares her from having to make a decision herself. It is up to Asami to decide whether to ask for the truth, Hiroshi to decide whether to give it to her, and Asami again to decide how to act on the truth.

* * *

Music: "Dangerous to Know" by Hilary Duff


	13. Home

_Published August 12, 2016, as part of the previous chapter  
_

"Home"

* * *

Except for when I was very little and thought that being an "engineer" meant he drove a train. Then I imagined him in the seat of an engine car the color of coal, a string of shiny passenger cars trailing behind. One day my father laughed and corrected me. Everything snapped into focus. It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world has been betraying you. ~ Nicole Krauss, _The History of Love_

* * *

Asami drives home without really thinking about the route; navigation and maneuvering are second nature to her, particularly in areas as familiar to her as Republic City. She finds tears stinging her eyes and tries to dry them on her sleeve.

This feels like an ending. Asami has never deliberately ended a friendship, or any relationship for that matter. Some have weakened, dissolved, faded away due to lack of effort on one or both parties, but Asami has never desired or been asked to end one. And Korra was the last person she ever expected to do so. Yet Korra does not want theirs to end, either. So why would she? Maybe if there were something more important at stake …

While the prospect of losing Korra's friendship is saddening, the idea of her father being in on whatever is troubling Korra is disturbing. Asami is not particularly close to her father, but they have always gotten along, and he has always been there for her when she sought his help.

Asami stops at the Arena on her way home, and finds the brothers exercising in the gym. Mako looks surprised but pleased to see her. "Hey. How's it going?" Then he sees the emotion that this question brings into her face, and his cheer changes to concern. "Are you okay?"

"I just went to see Korra."

"Oh. Well, is _she_ okay?"

"I don't know," Asami says, frustrated and helpless. She sits down on a stack of mats, and fishes the scarf and cash out of her purse. "She said she owed you money … and she asked me to return this, said she wouldn't need it."

Mako actually looks disappointed when she hands the scarf to him. Bolin looks incredulous.

"I'm kind of surprised you gave it to her," Asami says offhandedly. Mako told her how important it was to him, when she tried to give him a newer, nicer scarf to replace it.

"You don't even let _me_ wear it," Bolin remarks.

Mako blinks at him. "Um, you never asked."

"You never offered!"

"Whatever. It was all I had on me."

Asami speaks up. "You couldn't have asked her to hang something of her own in her window?"

Mako shrugs, awkward under her scrutiny. "It was the first thing I thought of … and it would've given her an excuse to see us, if she needed one." He puts it loosely over his sweaty shoulders and looks back at Asami. "Did she tell you anything?"

"Not really. We talked, but she was cryptic about everything. She seems to think she can't be friends with us anymore … or that we shouldn't be friends with her. She wouldn't explain why. She admitted that she has some secrets, but she wouldn't explain what they are or why she's keeping them." Asami pauses. "She said … one thing that might be a clue, but I don't even know if it's worth following."

"What is it?"

Asami does not want to draw suspicion to her father, especially when she does not know if there is any actual reason for suspicion. "I'll let you know when I find out more."

When she gets home, she asks the butler, "Where is my father?"

"I believe he is in his workshop," he answers primly.

Asami knows her father likes to be left alone when he is working there, but she goes anyway. He never said the place was off-limits for her. She knocks and calls out, "Dad? Are you in here?" When no one answers, she tries the door. It is locked. After a moment's consideration, she takes a bobby pin out of her hair and attempts to pick the lock, a measure she usually reserves for special occasions. Yet the door seems to be bolted or have something heavy blocking it from the inside.

Not knowing what to make of this, Asami goes back inside to look for her father. She checks his office first. The great wooden doors are locked, and no sound comes from within. Then she checks the kitchen, the various bathrooms, and his bedroom.

She comes back to the butler in despair. "I can't find him anywhere."

He looks thoughtful, as though just remembering something. "He mentioned he might need to speak to someone about new supplies."

"How can you not know? Isn't that your job?" Normally Asami never speaks to her family's employees like this, but she feels impatient with everyone. "When you see him, tell him I need to talk to him in the dining room." It is the closest place they have to a meeting room, and he will have to come there eventually to eat.

Asami passes the time reading magazines, folding the corners of pages with clothes and vehicles she likes. She finds it difficult to focus: Korra's words echo in her head, and she fiddles with the bracelet and glances frequently at the clock, wondering what is keeping her father so busy.

It is late in the afternoon when Hiroshi finally comes in. "Asami? Were you looking for me?"

She closes her magazine. "Yes. Where were you?"

His response is immediate, automatic: "In the workshop."

"But you weren't there when I looked."

"I must have been looking for something—I may have gone in and out."

"Well, I'm glad you're here anyway. Do you have time to talk?"

Hiroshi wavers, looking torn and apologetic. "Truthfully, Asami, I'm a little swamped."

"It's important," she insists gently. "I need to ask you something."

"Oh … alright." He sits down across from her. "What is it?"

Asami tries to use Korra's phrasing: "What do you … really do for work?"

He looks at her, his expression slowly shifting from one kind of blankness to another—from expectancy to confusion to something neutral. "I'm not sure I understand your question. I've shown you everything to do with the business."

"Earlier today, I went to see Korra, but her dad wouldn't let her leave their apartment. I don't know what their deal is, but she said that you and her dad have—a secret in common, and that I should ask you to tell the truth about your work."

Now Hiroshi looks angry. "She shouldn't have … but then again, _you_ shouldn't be meddling in their affairs, either."

"Korra is my friend," Asami says, already on the defensive. "I wanted to make sure she's okay. I guess what I should be asking is, do you know what she was talking about?"

"No." She doesn't believe him, and her expression shows it clearly. Hiroshi sighs and runs a hand through his graying hair. "Frankly, Asami, I don't have the time it would take to explain everything."

She looks hard at him. "Are you hiding something?"

"Well … yes, but not from you. I mean, not only from you; from many people. Much of my work is done on a need-to-know basis. It's not a matter of trust or faith; in your case it's a matter of safety. Sometimes it's better—safer, less worrying—not to know certain things."

That sounds like the kind of thing an adult would say to a young child. "Dad, I won't be able to stop worrying about Korra until I know what her situation is and what she was trying to tell me. I'm not going to let it rest. So if you know something, you might as well tell me now before I find out on my own. It'll probably save us both a lot of trouble."

He folds his hands under his chin and considers her. "You're like Korra and her father—you can't stand by when you think something is wrong. I suppose I share that quality to some extent as well."

Asami does not answer, but simply waits. He sighs heavily. "I knew we'd have this conversation eventually … but I was hoping I would have time to prepare first. This might be difficult … not for me to explain, but for you to accept."

"Why is that?"

"I never spoke openly about this, at first because it seemed safer, but later because I realized … we don't quite look at things the same way. Which is natural, to an extent; we grew up during different times, developed different perspectives …"

"You're stalling," Asami accuses.

"I'm sorry. I suppose my justification won't make sense to you until after you know what it is I'm talking about."

"Dad, I won't be mad as long as it's the truth."

Hiroshi looks at her for a long moment. "May I have your word on that?"

"Yes."

"Very well." He bows his head slightly, and strokes his beard pensively before looking at her again. "Do you remember meeting Korra and her father?"

"Of course."

"After you befriended Korra, he and I had a long conversation … about your mother, and what it was like raising children in a city like this—in a _world_ like this—where the strong prey on the weak, and the vulnerable have to be clever to survive."

"Dad? You're starting to lose me."

"The point is, Korra's father understood where I was coming from. He then invited me to meet a group of people who could offer … moral support, and other forms of support … and work toward changing this city, and the world, for the better. You've heard of this group, by now, but the media deliberate paints it in a negative light."

"What are you talking about?" She thinks of one group that might fit that description,, but does not really think it he could be referring to it, until he says:

"That group came to be known as the Equalists."

Asami stares at him, her mouth falling open as she processes the word and applies it to Korra's father—who Korra said was in the same business as her own father.

"He … Korra's father is an Equalist?"

"Yes. So is Korra." Hiroshi pauses. "And … so am I."

"What?" Asami's whisper comes out slow, hushed with incredulity. "You can't—you wouldn't—" She looks at him, as though she is no longer certain she recognizes him. "Would you?"

"I have."

"Since when?"

"Since that first meeting."

He waits patiently, giving her time to wrap her mind around it. A full decade has elapsed since the two families met. "So, you joined them _before_ they started all this revolution stuff?"

"It's been building for years, Asami, it just didn't become public until recently."

"But—they weren't always this radical, were they?"

"If by 'radical' you mean willing to take action … they were always working toward this point. You can't imagine all the preparation that is necessary."

"What kind of preparation?"

Hiroshi looks at her for a moment, coming to a decision, then stands up and gestures for her to do likewise. "If you really want to know … I can show you."

Asami obeys warily, and stays at a distance as she follows him. He pauses when they reach the back door of the mansion. "I'm going to have to ask you to close your eyes."

"Seriously?"

"It's safer if you don't know where we're going."

"This is ridiculous."

"Actually, it's quite serious."

She could refuse, but if she is ever going to find out the truth, it will be easiest when he is willing to show her. So she closes her eyes and lets her spin her around and guide her by the hand, as though she is a little girl again. While they walk he says, "Soon it won't have to be a secret. The revolution began when Amon revealed what he could do. When it's over there will be no more secrecy or deception, and no more inequality and injustice."

At first Asami thinks they have entered the workshop, but there are unfamiliar smells there—earth, metal, and stale air. "We have to go down some stairs," Hiroshi tells her; she feels her way down with her feet, until she steps on a metal floor. He takes her wrist and guides it to a metal bar, some kind of railing, and says, "Hold on. We'll be going down in a moment." There are mechanical noises—she can distinguish some kind of lever being pushed, the grinding of gears and chains, the whirr of wheels—and then the floor beneath them lurches. Asami has to grip the railing to keep her balance, both from the movement of the elevator and from her own nerves.

The more she thinks about it, the more evidence comes together in her mind: Korra saying her father's work involved helping people; their conversation about Equalism (was that only the day before yesterday?), the way Korra played dark spirit's advocate, ready to defend them.

_ Why, Korra? WHY, Dad?_

It is one thing for her well-intentioned friend to get caught up in a philosophy she was probably raised to believe; but her father—the inventor, the entrepreneur, the business magnate—is the most intelligent person she knows, and he never expressed this degree of enmity toward benders. He has sometimes complained about street violence and the work force and the roles benders play in social conflicts, but he never spoke of all benders being bad or deserving of punishment.

The ride is surprisingly short, and then Hiroshi leads her to the left. Even through her closed eyelids, she can sense the brightness increasing. She can hear movement too—other people walking, speaking, moving objects.

Someone nearby addresses her father. "Mr. Sato?"

"It's alright," he answers. "She's here at my invitation."

"Can she be trusted?"

"Of course. Go about your business."

"You can look now," Hiroshi tells her.

Asami opens her eyes slowly, shielding them with her hand and blinking against the bright light. She gasps as the room comes into focus, feeling her heart clench in her chest.

The enormous space reminds her of one of Future Industry's many warehouses: metal walls and pipes and ceilings, employees, and machinery. But the people here are dressed in the kind of uniform she has seen in newspaper photos of arrested Equalists. Hanging from the ceiling are two posters bearing the image of Amon's mask, with characters for slogans like "Follow Amon" and "Amon is the answer". Lined up on either side of the room are two rows of humanoid machines, perhaps fifteen feet tall, with glass-enclosed cockpits and claw-like appendages.

Only years of practicing etiquette keep an array of expletives from sliding off Asami's tongue. Hiroshi is watching her anxiously, waiting to see her reaction.

Somehow she manages to move her feet, walking unsteadily toward the line of machines on the left. She feels acutely aware of her and her father being the only ones here who are not wearing masks and jumpsuits. "What … are these things?" she asks, stopping to look up at one of the machines.

"We call them mecha tanks. They're made of platinum so they can't be damaged by metalbenders."

"What do they do?"

"They can shoot grappling hooks, send surges of electricity, and exert a strong magnetic charge."

Asami does not want to imagine what purpose those abilities could serve. She lowers her eyes and looks sideways at the boxes that the Equalists are piling up. "And what are those?"

He gestures her over to a box, and asks one of the attendants to open it with a crowbar. Inside are rows of strange gloves covered with wires, glass, and metal. Hiroshi picks one up and turns it over for Asami to see. "It's a special kind of glove that renders the same effects as a chi-blocker. It's going to make self-defense and special operations tremendously easier."

"You … let them keep this here?"

"I made most of this. I helped design inventions, and oversee their manufacture and distribution. I'm really the only one with the money and manpower to make everything they need." Hiroshi cannot keep his pride out of his voice, even as he warily watches her take it all in. She trembles, but she ran out of tears earlier in the day; she is not sad or angry, as she was then; shock and something like devastation have hold of her now.

"Why?" It is only one word, but it really stands for a plethora of questions. _Why did you sign on to this? Why did you keep this from me?_

Hiroshi looks as though he feels pain but is calmly bracing himself against it. "Sweetie …" He uses the same word Asami and Mako use for each other; it has been a long time since she heard her father say it. "I wanted to keep you out of this as long as I could. But now you know the truth, please, forgive me. Those people—those _benders—_" He is so emotional he has to stop to take a breath. "They took away your mother, the love of my life. They've ruined the world. But with Amon we can fix it and build a perfect world together. We can help people like us everywhere!" He holds the glove out to her, as an offering. "Join me, Asami."

This is not what she wanted. She did not expect to be making a choice like this. She steps backward; then all at once she pivots and runs back toward the elevator platform. She has to get out of that claustrophobic hidey-hole.

"Asami!" Hiroshi shouts and runs after her. She reaches the elevator platform first and briefly considers going up without him, but lets go of the idea as he catches up.

"Take me back."

"Of course."

They do not speak for several minutes. Asami's thoughts are a confused jumble; she tries to find some logic, a rock to hold onto in a storm. Nothing is what she thought.

Finally Hiroshi breaks the silence. "Are you angry with me?"

"I don't know what I feel."

"We can talk more about it tomorrow." He pauses, looking uncomfortable. "You understand that this has to stay secret for now. If the police or Councilman Tarrlok's task force found this—"

Asami's voice is sharper than it has ever been when addressing him. "I don't want to talk about it." She presses her hands against her forehead, feeling something like a migraine. "I need to think this over."

"Of course."

As she lets him lead her back to the house, Asami wonders: How could she have been so blind? Yet, when she thinks about it over the course of the evening, she seems to understand her own family's situation more easily than that of Korra's family. Her father told outright lies, but Korra never went so far as to say she opposed the Equalists. Asami can now understand Korra's ambivalent attitude toward the boys, and why she would want them to stay away from her.

How can her father expect her to join a force bent on taking something so valuable and personal from Mako and Bolin and other people like them?

There is still a piece missing from the puzzle Asami initially wanted to solve. How does Korra fit into all this? As jarring as this revelation is, it does not answer the original question of what has happened between Korra and her father. If Korra was already an Equalist, then whatever has come between her and her father cannot be the discovery of this secret. What more, though, can there be?

* * *

To alleviate her boredom, Korra plays solitaire, listens to jazz music on the radio, and attempts to read some books. The rest of the time, she imagines how her day-to-day life might be different if she were allowed to bend. She could use waterbending to irrigate the plants on the rooftop garden. She could use firebending to cook their food and heat water for tea. She could use earthbending to make her own parkour course, provided she could find an area big enough. She draws a blank for airbending, though. What practical uses could that have? Turning pinwheels? Flying kites? That could be fun. The airbenders on Air Temple Island also use gliders. She tries to imagine that, flying through the air, uninhibited by gravity. For some reason that thought evokes a sense of déjà vu, and she finds herself laughing and muttering, "Gravity."

Bending really changes everything: it enables people to defy the scientific laws that keep the rest of the world intact. That is why it used to be considered magic, and why Amon calls it unnatural. It gives people control over things that they should not be able to control, things that ordinary people cannot control. The fact that some can control the elements while others cannot makes it seem like there is some kind of divine ordinance granting them the right to reign over others.

For the first time in her life, Korra wonders: Is it so? It can't be the work of an intelligent or omniscient being; if it were, bending wouldn't go to immoral people. But that circles back to nature versus nurture, causality or coincidence: does having bending make people more inclined to immorality and violence?

Maybe it really is about survival of the fittest. That is, in the most basic, literal sense, the "natural order of things". But she values life and liberty too much to believe that is the way things should be.

She hears Amon's footsteps in the hallway; he pauses outside the threshold, then courteously knocks on the doorframe before looking in. "Dinner's on the table." When she does not move, he says, less gently, "I'm going to throw it away in fifteen minutes. If you want to eat, now's the time." So she gets up and joins him at the table. They do not speak to each other, and only look at each other when the other is not looking; if their eyes happen to meet, Korra immediately looks back at her food.

House arrest is not terrible, when Korra considers where she could be. She has seen the underground prison, even had guard duty there when they kept prisoners for the Revelation. As the Avatar, she would probably have maximum security to prevent her from bending. But the new truth**s** she has learned weigh her down as heavily as any chains, and the tension between her and Amon is as thick and impenetrable as a stone wall.

Amon finishes his food first, but continues to sit until she is done. "Help me with the dishes?" It is a routine they have, washing the dishes that have accumulated throughout the day. One washes, the other dries; they switch tasks from one day to the next.

"Do I really have a choice?"

"If you don't do them with me, you have to do your own. Either way comes to about the same amount of work."

She carries her dishes over to the sink. "We could do this a lot faster if you let me bend the water."

"More likely you'd injure yourself … or find that you enjoy it, which could set you on a path to destruction. I won't let you risk that."

She scowls, seeing through his pretense of fatherly protection. If he let her bend, she might turn on him with whatever elements she has at her disposal.

As he rinses the dishes, Amon finally strikes up the conversation that they lacked during the meal, and he chooses a rather random topic. "Do you remember our last camping trip? When you were attacked by a spirit, and almost got hypothermia?"

Korra remembers, and her anger is renewed. "Man, if I'd known I could firebend, or communicate with spirits—"

"That was the only time I ever doubted my decision. But you remember that I found you?"

"Of course I—"

"I spent the entire night looking for you, combing the slopes, shouting your name. And when I found you, nearly frozen, I carried you uphill through the wind and snow." Korra understands his implicit message: he saved her life that night, and probably more times than she can remember or was ever aware of. Whether she likes it or not, she is indebted to him. "I promised myself that I would never risk losing you again … not just for all the practical reasons I had at the beginning, but for personal reasons. Because I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. Frankly, I don't know if I could handle it."

Korra snorts, almost smiling at the irony. "It would serve you right. Then you'd know how my parents felt." She can tell by his silence that this is not how he meant for the conversation to go. He wants to guilt her into staying loyal to him, but the concept of filial loyalty goes for both parental parties.

"Can you ever forgive me?"

For the love of Yue—and he thinks _she_ is the audacious one! Korra wraps a towel around her fist and pushes it into a cup, feeling tempted to smash it against the counter. She might owe Amon her life, but not her forgiveness. "What do you think?"

"I certainly hope—"

"I don't care what you hope; what do you think are the chances that I'll ever forgive you?" Korra turns to look at his face. "This isn't like forgetting my birthday, or even leaving me stranded after a class. What you did was morally wrong, deliberate, and went on for years." She bangs the crockery slightly as she stacks it and places it in the cupboard. "Worst of all, it's not just about _me_—it's about people who loved me, who _I_ loved." Who she should still love. Who she wants to love.

"I understand. It is easier to forgive someone for wronging you than for wronging someone you love."

This statement surprises her. Where did Amon get that idea? From experience? Korra stares at him, slightly bewildered, wondering if there was more truth to his alleged backstory than she thought. _"I was alone."_ Korra can almost sympathize with that, because she knows what it is like to be lonely—but she was lonely because of him, because he wanted to limit her contact with people, to keep her dependent on only him.

She shakes her head, rubbing a bowl dry with hard, jerky movements. "Did you ever consider—even remotely—how they must have _felt_?"

"Of course I did."

"How could you live with yourself, knowing you caused that?"

"I told myself it was worth it. To enable the revolution … and to have you." Amon dries his hands on the towel and looks at her. "You know something we have in common?"

"What?"

"We don't have many people we care about on a personal level; but for the few we have, we care very deeply. It's in our nature."

"So?"

Amon lets a beat of silence pass before he answers. "You loved me once, Korra. I can't believe that feeling has disappeared in one night. I'd be surprised if it ever fades for good. So I ask you again: will you ever be able to forgive me?"

Korra wonders what that word really means. Doesn't forgiveness require putting bad feelings to rest, moving on? She cannot move on, because he will not let her. But if things somehow work out—if she someday sets things right, reunites with her family and establishes peace in the world—could she stop feeling this pain and anger? Can she control whether she feels it?

She rests her hands on the edge of the sink, bowing her head. "I don't know."

Amon touches her shoulder, and she tries to shrug him off, but then he squeezes tighter and says, "Come here." When she steps back, he pulls her close and folds his arms around her waist and shoulders. Korra considers fighting him, but he holds her fast. Standing against him makes her feel small, like a child again, simultaneously trapped and protected by this … this monster, this man, coaxing her to stay with him, trust him, love him … everything is so mixed up in her mind, heart, and body that she feels nauseous. She closes her eyes, trying to block everything out. She will not feel anything, physical or emotional, toward him. Neither love nor hate. She would rather have neither than both.

Amon ignores her stiffness; he strokes her hair and murmurs to her like he used to when she was frightened by a nightmare. "I love you." He pauses, and then murmurs, "I'm sorry if that's not enough."

Is that real pain, real wistfulness in his voice? At least part of her believes him. He could not have put up with her for so long if he did not love her to some extent. She does not know who she feels more sympathy for, herself or him. She wants to hug him back, but that would be giving in, and she promised not to do that. She just lets him hold her.

She is the one who tries to end the hug, moving her arms up between them, pushing him gently away. He holds on to her upper arms—she used to show off those muscles to him when they started getting big, she was never self-conscious of looking big and strong, she felt only pride because of it, and wanted him to be proud too. He touches her cheek, and kisses her forehead, before finally releasing her. "Sleep well."

Korra leaves and goes into her room, closing the door behind her. She cannot lock it, but she leans against it heavily, as though she can barricade it with her weight. She starts to cry, because there are too many emotions and too many conflicted thoughts, and she cannot understand him and she knows he will never understand her.

She must remember: it was not real. He did not adopt her, he kidnapped her. He did not want to love her, he wanted to use her. His love was just a catalyst for control. That is what it is now, too, she's sure.

The only thing that justifies her grief is the fact that her guardian is not who she thought he was. That show of affection in the kitchen may have been exactly that, a show—a strange, fatherly attempt at seduction. Looking back, Korra is disgusted by her own neediness. She hates that Amon still makes her feel safe. She has been a prisoner for thirteen years, but she liked it, because she did not know she was imprisoned. The truth shattered that illusion.

When she finally falls asleep, her dreams are hardly better than her reality. In fact, they are more tragic, more profoundly sorrowful. They are more eidetic than any dreams she can remember having, vivid in all five senses. The experiences scatter and tumble like sea glass in the ocean of her mind.

She hides in a tree and eavesdrops on a group of elderly men. They weight options for her future, comparing what is best for her to what is best for the world. Finally one of them chooses the next path she will take, a path that will separate her from everything she knows and everyone she loves.

She enters a room that seems to be underground and abandoned. Skeletons and rusted armor lie everywhere, but she is only concerned with the skeleton at the end of the room, in an upright position, still wearing robes and a necklace that she recognizes.

A girl she loves is being threatened, sinking into the ground on a crazed earthbender's whim—it is supposed to be in her power to stop it, and she is trying so hard, but she does not know how to do what has always happened involuntarily. The girl sinks up to her neck, and when Korra dives toward her, the girl disappears completely, left to suffocate somewhere underneath her.

There is a huge creature with six legs who seems to carry her from one location, one installment, to the next. But she returns from one adventure, and discovers the animal is gone. There is a young girl, who was left with the animal, and Korra asks, "Where's Appa?" The girl shakes her head miserably, and Korra is shocked to the point of grief, as though her entire past has been taken from her.

The strange thing is that, through all these dreams, she is not herself. She is the Avatar, but she is not Korra.

It is not until she wakes up that she attaches a name to person she was in these memories—that is what they were, she is sure of it. Her subconscious did not invent them; her spirit remembered them. She knows who experienced them first.

"_Aang_."

Maybe she is not as alone as she thought.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Music: "Home" by Alan Menken from _Beauty and the Beast_ on Broadway

Artwork: eviechan68 illustrated the kitchen scene with Noatak and Korra. Many thanks!

Acknowledgment: I am sincerely grateful to iruka-2013 for taking time out of her busy life to read and give me feedback on this chapter prior to posting. God bless you!

Disclaimer: I borrowed a bit of phrasing about the word "show" from Stephenie Meyer's _Twilight_. I don't mean to plagiarize, I just kind of absorb the language I read and hear, and end up using it myself.


	14. Endless Night

_Published September 8, 2016_

"Endless Night"

* * *

There were times, indeed, when I thought his unceasingly agitated mind was laboring with some oppressive secret, to divulge which he struggled for the necessary courage. ~ Edgar Allan Poe, "The Fall of the House of Usher"

* * *

Korra fishes a notebook out of her old school supplies, and writes down what she can remember of her dreams. Then she adds what she remembers from the dream about Yakone. Once she starts writing and relaxing her mind, she remembers details of dreams from years past, images and words that she knows are significant but whose meaning she cannot piece together.

As the day creeps on, Korra tries meditating, even though she never really learned how. Normally she would not devote so much time to something she is not naturally good at, but now she has plenty of time and little else to do.

She does not know exactly what she is supposed to think about. She tries to focus on her breath, counting her inhalations and exhalations, measuring each of them second by second. But she keeps thinking about her body (whether she will fall asleep, or get hungry, or feel pins and needles in her legs) and her surroundings (whether Noatak will catch her meditating and figure out what she is attempting). Trying to be completely quiet makes her all the more aware of disturbances—the wind blowing, her stomach gurgling, the pipes creaking, and the phone ringing.

She jumps, startled and guilty, when Amon calls out to her. "Korra? There's a phone call for you. It's Asami."

Korra stands up shakily and avoids his suspicious, disapproving gaze as she walks to the phone. She holds up the earpiece and speaks into the mouthpiece. "Asami?"

"Hi Korra."

"What's going on?"

"My dad told me everything."

"O-oh." Korra does not know how to react. She is glad that Asami is no longer completely in the dark, but she feels bad that Asami has to carry the burden of knowledge. She glances at Amon, who is sitting on the sofa just a few yards away. If Amon doesn't already know about Asami's new knowledge, he will eventually learn of it from Hiroshi. But if Asami says anything to criticize the Equalists, or implicate their families' connections to the Equalists … "Um, I don't think we should talk about this over the phone …"

"I know, that's what my dad said. We really need to talk in person about this. But I can't leave the house for a while, until he thinks I've 'calmed down' about it. I just wanted you to know that I know."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I think I understand, now, why you said all those things to the boys and me."

"But … I didn't want to ruin your relationship with your dad, and I went ahead and risked it."

Asami's voice becomes colder than Korra has ever heard it. "It's his doing, not yours."

She _is_ mad, then, but not at Korra. If they have to be separated, they can say goodbye on good terms. "Will you stop worrying about me, now?"

There is a pause before Asami responds. "Honestly, I'm not sure I can. Now that I know the truth, I'm even more scared for you; and I still don't understand the issue you're having with your dad, if you knew for so long. I don't know where you stand on any of this."

Korra sighs. There is so much they cannot risk saying with their respective fathers nearby, and with the police and Equalists possibly tapping their phone lines. "It's too complicated to get into now," she says truthfully.

"We need to talk face-to-face," Asami says adamantly.

"That's not going to happen anytime soon."

"I'll find a way." Asami sounds so determined, so sure of her ability, that it makes Korra feel hopeful in spite of herself.

"Asami?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for calling. And for being such a good friend. You're much better at it than I am."

Asami's tone softens. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You're a good friend, too."

Korra hopes that is true. "One other thing. Don't do anything … reckless."

"_You're_ telling _me_ not to do anything reckless?" There is amusement in Asami's tone, and Korra almost smiles at the irony. When they played together as children, devising stunts to prove their bravery and agility, Asami was usually the one who wanted to set limits for safety, while Korra coaxed her to take risks. "I guess if even you think it's too dangerous, it really must be."

Korra tries to find the words to warn her without saying anything explicit. "It wouldn't just be dangerous for you or me. It'd be bad for our friends, too."

Asami is silent for a moment, processing the meaning and gravity of Korra's words."Oh. … Okay."

"Thanks."

"Well … take care."

"You too."

Korra feels a little better when she hangs up. Asami knows the truth—or at least part of it—and that thought is strangely freeing. If nothing else, it feels good to know that one of her secrets is now shared.

* * *

While waiting to hear from Asami, Mako mulls over whether to honor Korra's request to talk to Skoochy. Mako has never had much affection for the kid, does not particularly like or fully trust him, only bears a grudging respect for his shrewdness. To tell the truth, Skoochy is the kind of person Mako used to be—self-seeking, looking to maximize his profit, dismissive of other people's interests.

Mako had two lucky breaks that kept him from becoming a hardened criminal: his brother kept him grounded and gave him a reason to persevere; then Toza gave them the hand up that they needed, enabling them to get out of poverty and away from crime. Mako can offer the latter type of help, but not having the former makes Skoochy less likely to seize such an opportunity. Skoochy doesn't have to worry about anyone's welfare but his own, so he doesn't care as much about avoiding danger or setting an example of integrity.

Mako supposes he could mentor the kid—or ask Bolin to mentor him, which might make more sense because they're both earthbenders. Mako doesn't know whether Skoochy has the talent to be a pro-bender, but at least Bolin would be a better influence than the gangsters. Maybe they could even get Skoochy to help with chores or something, in exchange for meals or a roof when the weather is bad.

Over breakfast, Mako runs the idea by Bolin, who jumps on it enthusiastically. "Yeah, I miss that kid! It'd be fun to have him around—like having a little brother."

"Whoa, Bolin, we're not adopting him."

"Why not? You _are_ legally an adult. And you're practically a dad already." Mako snorts, but Bolin presses on half-teasingly: "You're the one who always wants to cook, and clean, and earn money—"

"_You're_ supposed to do all that, too; and just 'cause I'm good at it doesn't mean I'd be a good parent. You, on the other hand, are great with kids."

"Really?"

"Yeah, 'cause you _still_ _are_ one."

"I resent that!" Bolin cries, feigning indignation.

"Didn't you say you're 'a growing boy'?"

Their bantering turns into a playful fight over the food, pretty much proving how young they still are.

Mako wouldn't mind having another friend around, but expanding their family is a whole other idea—one that has crossed his mind a few times, since he began dating Asami. The Triple Threats pretty much saw girls and dating as opportunities for sex, but Toza cautioned the brothers against trying it before marriage, speaking from his own experience: he had accidentally fathered a child as a teenager, and had a bad experience of his wife cheating on him and having another man's child. His story sobered Mako, and made him think, for some time, that forming relationships with girls wouldn't be worth the trouble. Neither of them know whether Bolin really took those warnings to heart; he loves having fangirls fawn over him.

How ironic it is, then, that Mako is the first of the brothers to have a steady relationship with a girl. Asami literally crashed into his life and somehow staked a claim on his time and attention. Sometimes Mako cannot believe how things have taken off between them. Being with Asami is amazingly easy—she makes everything seem simple, doable. The world probably seems that way when you have enough money to alter circumstances to your preference.

Initially, Asami's easygoing attitude made Mako wonder if she was playing him, seeing him as a charity project or a chance to go slumming with attractive lower-class athletes. But she has given and received in almost equal measure, and never seems to think much about class or wealth. Now Mako believes she is serious about making this relationship last, but he still wonders how far she expects it to go—whether she dates just for fun, or with the hope of finding someone to marry.

Mako does not know what he hopes for. After kissing and cuddling with Asami, he is starting to like the idea of physical intimacy; but the idea of forming a family is almost too foreign to contemplate possible pros and cons. Although Asami's father seems to like him, Mako cannot imagine marrying an heiress. The tabloids would probably write about them and call it a rags-to-riches story; people might think he was just marrying Asami for money.

These thoughts only come to Mako on nights when he cannot sleep. As he goes through the motions of each day, he doesn't have time to dwell on the future. All he knows for certain is that he cares about Asami and enjoys being with her.

He feels a slight jolt when he realizes he can say the same thing about Korra … but the dynamics of those relationships differ in expectations, intentions, commitment … though, now that he thinks about it, he has never talked about those things with either girl.

The last thing Korra said to him was that she thinks he deserves Asami. That is a high compliment, considering all of Asami's wonderful qualities, and it sounds like Korra is happy that Asami has him in her life.

After cleaning up their breakfast, the brothers walk down to the former Triple Threat Triad headquarters. The door seems secure on its hinges, despite what Korra did to it earlier in the week. Mako knocks, waits, then pounds on the door. "Skoochy? You in there?"

A moment later the door opens a few inches, and Skoochy peers through the gap. "Back again?"

"Yeah. Bolin wanted to see you."

"Really?" Skoochy opens the door all the way, and grins when he sees the fellow earthbender. "Hey Bo!"

"Hey Skoochy!" Bolin slaps him a high-five. "How's things?"

"Not bad." He looks to Mako. "How's your girlfriend?"

"Uh, she's good. How'd you know—wait, you mean _Korra_?"

"Yeah. She was nice."

"She's not my girlfriend." This is the second time that an acquaintance's line of questioning necessitated saying that.

"Then why'd she follow your lead?"

"Because she doesn't know triads like I do—anyway, who she is to me is none of your business!"

"Wow, you got touchy."

Bolin clears his throat. "_Soooo_, anyway … we were wondering if you wanted to get a bite."

Skoochy's dirt-smeared countenance immediately brightens at the offer of free food.

After walking around in search of a restaurant with low prices and high quality, they settle on a Fire Nation joint and order a plate of kebabs to share. "Did your not-girlfriend find what she was lookin' for?" Skoochy asks while they wait.

"Uh … yeah, pretty much." Mako changes the subject quickly, not wanting to get into the complications that he himself does not fully understand. He hopes Asami will have answers the next time he talks to her.

While Mako and Bolin enjoy their shares at a moderate pace, Skoochy gobbles up his kebabs quickly, and then uses the sharp sticks to clean his teeth. "Don't stab yourself," Bolin warns, waving his stick like a sword. Skoochy keeps one between his lips but raises another to meet Bolin's pretend blade, initiating a mock duel. Mako watches in amusement until the restaurant host starts giving them dirty looks.

Skoochy folds his arms and leans back in his seat. "So. You guys starting a new operation?"

Mako blinks at him. "What? No."

"What makes you think that?" Bolin asks innocently.

Skoochy explains nonchalantly, "This is what the recruiters do—pay for your meal, then ask you to do a favor—tell you to drop off a package without telling you it's contraband, stuff like that. Or make it so you owe them, and threaten you when you try to say no."

The brothers realize they should have thought earlier of how this outing would look to the kid. "Skoochy, you know we're not like that," Mako says. Skoochy raises an eyebrow behind his shaggy bangs, and Mako insists, "Not anymore. We've been pretty happy since we went straight."

"Did you hear about our pro-bending gig?" Bolin asks.

"Yeah, I saw your pictures in a newspaper."

That gives Mako an idea. "Have you ever thought about selling newspapers?"

"Sure. I've done it, too. On a good day it gets ya enough to buy some jennamite. It's not worth all the work, or the money it takes to buy the papers every day."

"Yeah, but some printing places give newsies free room and board, right?"

"I know; I've bunked up with some." Skoochy notices the surprise in their expressions, and lays his spear on his plate. "Look, I'm not opposed to work. If you name a job that a twelve-year-old can do around here, I've probably already done it at some point. They've just never been good enough to keep doing."

"But apparently being a Triple Threat-in-training is," Mako counters sarcastically.

"That's pretty much an as-needed basis. I'm fine with that."

"That's a risky business at the best of times, but with what you told us about it sounds like it's getting even worse. Did you know Lightning Bolt Zolt lost his bending?"

Skoochy blinks. "Really? I heard it, but I didn't believe it."

"It's true. And what if the Equalists found you with the Triple Threats, and took your earthbending? Then you'd have nothing to offer the triads. Wouldn't it be smarter to have a backup plan? Some job you can fall back on?" Mako is appealing to the kid's pragmatic, self-preserving side. Skoochy's pensive expression suggests it might be working. "Look, Skoochy … Bolin and I got where we are today because someone reached out and helped us. If you want to stay on the streets, that's your call; but if you want to even have the option of something—different, something that might turn out to be better … well, you can't just put it off 'til you're older. If you want to try sports or some kind of trade, now would be the time to start training."

They wait while Skoochy tries to wrap his mind around that way of thinking. He is used to short-term returns, earning or stealing just enough to get what is needed at the present. Saving and preparing for the long term are not part of his mindset.

"Lemme get back to you on that," he says noncommittally.

"Sure. Our door's always open."

"Except at night, when Toza locks it up," Bolin amends.

Mako rolls his eyes but smiles. "You know what I mean."

They remain at the restaurant long enough to order desserts in paper takeout boxes. When they leave, Bolin starts to invite him to the Arena, but Skoochy spots some other street kids and opts to follow them. "Nice chattin' with ya!" He tips his hat cockily at the brothers before running down the slush-splattered street. Bolin's smile is affectionate and nostalgic, while Mako's is indulgent and melancholy.

When they are almost home, Mako notices a handful of working-class men and women loitering on a sidewalk within sight of the Arena's main entrance. He is certain he saw them pacing the same area when he and Bolin left just a few hours before.

Mako waits until they are inside the building before asking, "Do you know the people hanging out across the street?"

Bolin looks through the glass; he barely registered the strangers. "No. It might be a new hangout or something."

"They look like they're making an effort to look casual. Like they're on a stakeout or something."

"I think you're paranoid."

"Well, you're bad at reading people, so I guess we have a balance."

While Bolin goes up to their apartment to check on Pabu, Mako makes a detour to Butakha's office and asks if there were any calls for them. "Mr. Popular, huh?" the pro-bending magnate teases. Two calls in three days _is_ the most that the boys have ever had, but Butakha takes the implication further: "You thinking of getting your own phone? Maybe a secretary?" Mako ignores the jibe, and repeats the question, only to get a negative answer. "Sorry, kid. No messages. I'll let you know if one comes."

Asami knows that Mako is expecting to hear from her, yet she does not call him that day, or the next day. In the midst of his annoyance, Mako cannot help feeling that such neglect is not like Asami. Since they started dating, they have not gone more than a few days without speaking to each other.

Finally, after he has lost track of the number of days since her brief visit, Mako decides to pay Butakha for another call.

A butler answers the phone. "Sato residence."

"Hi. Is Asami there? It's Mako."

There is a pause on the other end of the line. "Miss Sato is unavailable at present."

"Will she be available later today?"

"I'm afraid not."

"What? Is she sick or something?"

"I have no more information."

Mako bites back a retort, trying to keep his tone polite. "Can you ask her to call me when she has a chance?"

"I can."

"Please do."

"Good day, sir."

Mako all but slams the earpiece back on the stand, muttering a minor curse. As more days pass in silence, he wonders if he was right all along about one or both of the girls playing them. At least Korra was straightforward enough to tell them up front that she wanted to sever ties. She did not give an explanation, but she was pretty clear about her intention. Asami won't even tell them what she is doing. She would not drop him without a valid reason and some form of communication. Mako almost considers calling the police, until he decides he does not have enough information to make a report or ask them to investigate.

Fear for the girls' well-being, and fear of being rejected for the first time in his life, make Mako grouchier than he has been since he met Asami. Bolin teases him about worrying too much, but even he wonders what could be keeping the girls from contacting them.

* * *

It takes a few days of trial and error, meditating by day and dreaming by night, before Korra finally manages to get her mind into the right state. The memories come, one after another, as clear and vivid as if she were experiencing them herself, and she retains them afterwards.

_Aang tried to save a friend who was being held prisoner, only to find out that his friend was perfectly capable of fighting._

_"I don't understand. Why didn't you free yourself? Why did you surrender when Omashu was invaded? What's the matter with you, Bumi?"_

_ The old earthbender was perfectly calm, in spite of his body being confined in a coffin-like cage. "Listen to me, Aang. There are options in fighting called jing. It's a choice of how you direct your energy."_

_ Aang seemed no less angry; in fact he seemed even more impatient. "I know! There's positive jing when you're attacking, and negative jing when you're retreating."_

_ "And neutral jing, when you do nothing!"_

_ Aang was nonplussed. "There are three jings?"_

_ "Well, technically there are eighty-five, but let's just focus on the third. Neutral jing is the key to earthbending. It involves listening and waiting for the right moment to strike."_

_ Aang started to understand then. "That's why you surrendered, isn't it?"_

_ "Yes, and it's why I can't leave now."_

_ Aang turned around, clearly disappointed. "I guess I need to find someone else to teach me earthbending."_

_ "Your teacher will be someone who has mastered neutral jing. You need to find someone who waits and listens before striking."_

(Korra wonders how Bumi's situation compares to her own. Is she doing the right thing by biding her time under house arrest?)

_Bumi was right about Aang's earthbending teacher. Toph Bei Fong knew how to wait and listen, and had her own way of seeing the world. She was perceptive and powerful, but hid her abilities from her parents in order to avoid disappointing their expectations of her._

_"My parents don't understand me," Toph told him privately. "They've always treated me like I'm helpless."_

_ "Is that why you became the Blind Bandit?" Aang asked._

_ "Yeah."_

_ "So why stay here where you're not happy?"_

_ "They're my parents. Where else am I supposed to go?"_

_ A moment of silence passed before Aang suggested, "You could come with us."_

_ "Yeah." Toph's voice was envious. "You guys get to go wherever you want. No one telling you what to do. That's the life. It's just not my life."_

_ Later that night, after a kidnapping and ransom exchange made Aang and his friends appeal to her help, Toph revealed her full powers to her parents and told them who and what she really was. But it backfired, as her father decided he had done a poor parenting job._

_ "I've given you far too much freedom. From now on you'll be guarded twenty-four hours a day."_

_ "But Dad!"_

_ "We are doing this for your own good, Toph," her mother said firmly._

_ Toph stood resignedly as the guards escorted Aang and his friends Katara and Sokka out. "I'm sorry, Toph," Aang said sadly, glancing over his shoulder at her._

_ "I'm sorry, too. Goodbye." Toph did not sob or shout, but tears fell down her cheeks._

_She caught up with them later, claiming that she had her parents' permission to travel the world, and her friends did not question whether it was the truth or merely what they wanted to be true._

_Toph was not free to make her own choices or be her true self. Aang was persistent in reaching out to her, and gave her the opportunity for escape. But ultimately, she was the only one who could free herself._

(Korra identifies with Toph, but finds a key difference between their situations: the blind earthbender didn't have to worry about anyone being harmed as a result of her disobedience.)

_Aang was pleased to see all of his friends and relatives gathered in the Air Temple Island sanctuary. His immediate family and Water Tribe in-laws stood together on the side. Toph was also there, a black-haired girl standing on either side of her; the elder, Lin, held a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift in her arms. Fire Lord Zuko stood by his wife and daughter, and Earth King Kuei and Water Tribe Chief Ramadi also had places of honor. A few hundred Air Acolytes made up the remainder of the assembly. White Lotus sentries stood guard at the doors, ensuring that only invited guests entered. A man in a wheelchair was there to take photographs with a camera his father had designed, but the Republic City journalists were being forced to wait until after the ceremony to obtain interviews and photographs of the world's newest airbending master. Dozens of wind chimes hung from the cavernous ceiling, and bowls of sand and smoldering incense sticks lined the stage. The youngest of Aang and Katara's teenage children knelt on the stage, wearing a yellow robe that hid most of his face._

(Korra thinks briefly of the Revelation, and notes some key similarities and differences between the momentous events.)

_Aang stood next to Tenzin, looked out over the assembly, and began to speak. "A ceremony like this has not taken place for a hundred and thirty__-five__ years. There were times when I feared that one would never take place again, or that, if it did, I wouldn't live to see it. I cannot put into words how proud I am to anoint my son as an airbending master." He paused to smile fondly at Tenzin, but the hooded figure remained motionless.  
_

_Aang went on, "Throughout his life, Tenzin has diligently studied the art of airbending and the traditions of the Air Nomads. His talent, dedication, and leadership give me hope for the future of the Air Nation. And a nation cannot be one or even two people. A nation is a community, which is why I'm so grateful to my family and my acolytes for their help in preserving my culture. It is my hope that the Air Nation will continue to grow, and that its members will show my descendants the same respect that they have shown me."_

_ He turned to address the new airbending master. "Tenzin, my son … I have taught you everything I know, trained you to the best of my ability, and guided you as far as I can in your journey. I will continue to support you as long as I am able … but there will come a time when you must lead the Air Nation without me. When that time comes, you must trust in yourself."_

(Korra wonders whether Aang's legacy as the last airbender is as heavy for Tenzin as Aang's legacy as the Avatar is for her. Did Tenzin ever resent it, or feel he was not up for it? Did he truly want it, or merely resign himself it? Was it his own dream, or just a way to make his father proud? Did Aang invest as much hope in his son as Amon invested in her?)

_ "Now remove your robe."_

_ Tenzin stood and carefully lowered his hood, revealing a bald head marked with a blue arrow like his father's. They were almost identical, except that Tenzin was shorter and clean-shaven. He unfastened the robe, shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground, revealing the same tattoo pattern on his arms and hands, legs and feet. His facial expression was solemn, but when he met his father's gaze and saw how broadly he was smiling, he smiled too, the connection between them ineffable yet palpable._

_ Father and son moved in unison, bending the air so that the smoke from the incense sticks moved in an expanding upward spiral, until it reached the wind chimes, stirring them into beautiful music. Aang remembered how at his own tattoo ceremony, and others he witnessed, dozens of newly initiated airbenders had worked together to create the memorable smells and sounds. He hoped the next time a ceremony like this took place, there would be more airbenders present to ring the chimes._

(Korra's heart aches for the airbenders, both those who were killed and those who lived after the genocide. She wishes Aang had lived long enough to meet at least one of his grandchildren. She wonders if he can see them through her eyes.)

_ Aang and Katara paid Fire Lord Zuko a brief visit on their way to the Northern Water Tribe. "Have you heard about Chief Ramadi's son?" Aang asked._

_ "Yes. He sent an edict to each of the nations' leaders, saying Tonraq is no longer to be received with the honors due a future chief."_

_Katara looked at him with sympathy. "Did that bring back bad memories?"_

_ Zuko sighed. "I admit, I know what he is going through better than most. But I also admit, the reasons for his banishment are much better than my father's reasons for mine."_

_ "I'm going to try to convince him to lift his son's banishment," Aang informed him. "I'd like you to come with me. You can help him understand how Tonraq must be feeling now."_

_ Zuko looked thoughtful at this suggestion, but after a moment he shook his head. "I wish I could help, Aang, but I don't think my testimony would support your argument. I have long thought that banishing me was the best thing my father could have done for my life, because it put me on the right path. It led me to you, to the truth about the war. It helped me learn how to be a good leader for my people. For all we know, Tonraq's banishment might be a part of his destiny. Perhaps it will help him in some way we cannot foresee."_

_ Aang considered this pensively, but Katara was skeptical. "If we had that attitude about every unjust situation, we'd allow a lot of suffering. That can't be right."_

_ "No—that's not what I—"_

_ "He still has a point, Katara," Aang intervened. "The chief might want his son to be humbled, and seeing Zuko might convince him that such measures can succeed. That wouldn't help us make our case."_

(Korra wonders which parenting method is worse: forbidding your child to leave, for forcing your child to leave.)

_Aang was able to have a private audience with Chief Ramadi in the Northern Water Tribe ice palace. The chief appeared to be the older of the two men, but Aang seemed in worse health; both men were tired yet determined to carry on._

_"Are you still in contact with him?" Aang asked._

_ "Of course. Tonraq may not be fit to be a leader, but he is still my son. We do not break those ties in the Water Tribes."_

_ "Of course," Aang echoed, inclining his head. This is a different mindset than the one he grew up with, but he has learned, particularly from Katara and her relatives, how important family is to her people._

_ "His most recent correspondence said that he had married and built a home of his own. I plan to see him and meet his wife when the Southern Tribe hosts the Glacier Spirits Festival."_

_ "I'm pleased to hear that." There was a pause while they both sipped tea. Then Aang began his process of persuasion. "You know, Chief Ramadi … Tonraq may be weak in some abilities, but he is strong in others. He may still use them to serve either one of the Tribes, if you allow him."_

_ "You misjudge me, Avatar. I didn't banish him as a punishment alone. I thought it prudent to send him as far as possible from the spirits he offended. If Tonraq returns here, they may recognize his presence and try to drive him out. I won't endanger him or our people again."_

_ There was a period of silence. There was logic and even wisdom in Ramadi's explanation. Yet it pulled at something in Aang's memory, and he realized a perfect counterexample existed._

_ "Did you ever meet Iroh of the Fire Nation?"_

_ Ramadi tilted his head slightly, wondering where this question originated and where it would lead. "No, but I'm familiar with the stories about him. We haven't forgotten how he defended the Moon Spirit and witnessed Princess Yue's sacrifice."_

_ Aang nodded. "He had a complicated past, full of deeds that put him out of favor with spirits and humans alike. His family put the world far out of balance, and he himself was a notorious general during the Hundred Year War. Yet he recognized and repented of his sins, and came to understand his place in the world. The dragons deemed him worthy to learn the deepest secrets of firebending, and when he felt he was dying, he meditated until his soul entered the spirit world. He was still there when I last checked."_

_ "What is your point?"_

_ "If someone who had made so many spiritual and political mistakes could regain the spirits' favor, Tonraq may be able to do the same. He only needs to be given the chance."_

_ Ramadi's expression remained clouded, but he seemed to take Aang's words into consideration._

_ Aang took a sip of his beverage, then set it down on the ice table. He looked uncharacteristically serious, almost grim. "Katara doesn't like me to talk about this, but my prognosis is not good. I may not live much longer, and I want to know that the world will be relatively stable after my death. The next Avatar will be a waterbender by heritage, and so will most likely be born in the Water Tribes. I don't want him or her to grow up in a nation troubled by spirits or politics. For your part, Chief Ramadi, I hope you and your family will do what you can to ensure the stability of the Water Tribes. And because family means so much to your people, I think the best way to bring balance to your nation is to bring balance to your family."_

_ Ramadi looked at Aang for a long moment, before slowly nodding, a gesture that filled Aang with hope. "You speak wisely, and truly. I've had to make similar preparations for my own death. I worry, sometimes, how Tonraq and Unalaq will handle the problems between the North and South. The brothers prefer to be apart, but their separation only reinforces their resentment." Ramadi stood and placed his right fist over his heart, signifying the making of an oath. "___I promise I will lift Tonraq's banishment before I die, and_ do everything in my power to help your next incarnation."_

_ Aang smiled, grateful and satisfied. "Thank you, Chief Ramadi."_

Korra returns to full consciousness then. She grabs her journal and stays up late writing about what she saw.

The last memory confuses her more than any of the others. It is strange enough to think about her past life interacting with her blood relatives, but their conversation was even stranger. Korra vaguely remembers hearing of the old chief's death when she was young. Did he keep his promise? Did his younger son, Unalaq, know about the promise? What did it mean in terms of the Water Tribes' leadership? Was Tonraq supposed to be the chief of one or both tribes?

What of the fact that Tonraq became the father of the next Avatar, the person with the strongest connection to the spirits? Did the spirits have any control over the reincarnation cycle? Did they mean for the Avatar to be born of the banished prince and his wife? Or did her birth have to do with her relation to Ramadi and Unalaq, the great spiritual experts?

All of this is intriguing to think about, but compared to the other memories, which had parallels to her current situation, Korra cannot see how the memory of Ramadi fits with anything that is going on now.

Is Aang trying to teach her about her identity, or make it even harder to understand?

* * *

Korra waits for a moment when Amon is in the bathroom, and then extracts his newspaper from the recycling bin. She unfolds it and takes the front page, local news, politics, and editorial sections, folding these pages and tucking them under her shirt before putting the rest back in the bin. She waits until she is locked safely in the bathroom before she reads them.

One article captures her interest: a report on a recent string of spirit attacks on ships in Southern Water Tribe territory. Chief Unalaq released a statement about it, attributing the phenomenon to the South's lack of knowledge and reverence for the spirits. Korra wonders if that is really how spirits interact with humans, and what can be done about it. Is it the kind of situation the Avatar is supposed to handle? Korra knows nothing about spirits, but if she had been raised knowing her identity, she might have learned about them sooner. As it is now, she is almost glad that no one is calling on her to handle it. But that does not really take away her responsibility, does it? She wonders if Unalaq, the people of the the Water Tribes, or other world leaders blame her for being absent and leaving burdens such as this one on them.

One headline makes her heart feel caught, as though one force is trying to drag it down while another is trying to pull it up: Councilman Tenzin and his Air Acolyte wife, Pema, have welcomed another child into the world, a healthy baby boy named Rohan. The article lists the names and ages of their other children: Jinora, 10 years old; Ikki, 8; Meelo, 5. Korra thinks the one she saw at the library must have been the eldest. They do not yet know if this new baby is an airbender, but it seems likely, since his father and all of his siblings are airbenders.

Will that baby ever be able to find out if he can bend air like his family members?

When Amon comes out of his room to prepare dinner, he finds Korra sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded primly. She nods at the chair across from her. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

He looks at her only a moment before smiling amiably and taking a seat.

"I want to propose a compromise between the Equalists and the benders of the city."

Amon considers her ambivalently. "I'd rather form a compromise between the two of us."

"I'm the Avatar. You're the leader of the Equalists. We're practically the epitome of two opposing sides. I'm supposed to mediate conflicts. So a compromise between us should also go for the sides we represent."

"And what is your proposal?"

"You will offer to end this so-called war, _on the condition_ that the city's leaders let you equalize all convicted criminals. I will reveal my identity, meet my biological family, and learn how to bend the elements, and you can teach me how to take away people's bending myself."

Amon smiles condescendingly. "Korra … Korra … you're such an idealist."

"Really? I wonder where I got that from?" she quips sarcastically.

He reaches for her hand, and she lets him hold it, not wanting to turn him off. "I'm sure you can understand … I've made too many promises to my followers. They look to me to be a strong, resolute leader. If I came up short on my promises, they would accuse me of selling out, and rightly so."

"There have to be compromises to end a war," Korra insists.

"I'm sorry. The goal of total equality is central to this movement; it is not something I can compromise on. And I won't let them take you away from me, to train you who-knows-where, while I face criminal charges."

Korra pulls her hand out of his grasp. "I want to at least spare the airbenders. The Air Nomads were, and still are, a people of peace. They wouldn't use their bending to hurt anyone."

"You have no way of knowing how they or their descendants would use their bending. Those children are growing up the same way their father did, believing they are special just because they have a rare ability. If they lose it early in life, they can grow up like normal children."

Korra's anger bubbles over then. She rises and exclaims, "How are we any different from the Fire Nation during the Hundred Year War? What you're doing is virtually _genocide_."

Amon stands, his chair scraping the floor, and leans onto the table. "You know very well that's not true. The Equalists are not murderers."

"Give me a reason to believe it," she challenges him. "Tell me, how _did_ you figure out you could take people's bending? You wouldn't have planned the Revelation as a big event if you didn't know for sure that it would work, so your performance then couldn't have been the first time you did it. Did you use test subjects? Once you succeeded, you couldn't let them spread the word, and I doubt you went to the trouble of keeping strangers as long-term prisoners."

He glowers at her, but does not deny it. Korra knows she is right, again.

"They were criminals," Amon says finally. "Not innocents. Is it a crime, to kill people who are guilty?"

"Hmph. You're not the one who should judge."

"Do you think you are?" he retorts.

"Wasn't that your point in making me your successor? You _want_ me to be the world's judge, which is what I would have been anyway if you'd let me grow up as the Avatar. You just want me to judge the way _you_ would. But you've already had the benefit of raising me. I'm never going to condone the things that benders do to keep power over nonbenders. Can't you trust me to do my job?"

"You're not ready, and I'm more than capable of being the world's Equalizer for a long while. But, if my life is in danger, or I start to consider retirement, then I will teach you. You can carry on my work."

"It's not _your_ work I want to continue. It's Aang's." She turns away before he can react, goes to her room and slams the door behind her.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Music: "Endless Night" from _The Lion King_ on Broadway.

Names: I named Korra's grandfather, Tonraq and Unalaq's father, after a city in Iraq.

Chronology: Tenzin was born 120 years after the Air Nomad genocide, and since we don't know how old he was when he got his tattoos, I guesstimated that he may have been fifteen, so the ceremony would have been in 135 AG.

Disclaimer: The part with Mako trying to contact Asami and getting the butler instead is modeled after one of the final scenes in _The Great Gatsby_ (2013). Aang's words about peace in the world being related to peace in the family are inspired by the ideas and words of multiple people. An analogy in the Avatar comic _The Search: Part 1_ by Gene Yuen Lang compares the state to a family. Mother Teresa, who was just canonized as an official saint of the Catholic Church, has been quoted as saying "If you want to bring happiness to the whole world, go home and love your family," and, "The way you help heal the world is that you start with your own family".


	15. Bet On It

_Published November 4, 2016_

"Bet On It"

* * *

"There was a young girl who saw the bear and felt sorry for it. This girl came in the night and cut the rope while the bear lay sleeping. The bear awoke with a start, seeing the rope had been cut."

"So the bear escaped then," said Thomas. "It ran off in the night and found its way home."

"No," said Thorn. "The bear looked all around and, not knowing what to do, woke his master and showed him the rope. Now the master knew he had trained the bear well. From that day forward, there was no rope, no stake, nothing to keep the bear at his master's side. And yet the bear never tried to leave. He died of loneliness, clutching the old cut rope at night like a child's blanket, wishing for the courage to leave."

"That's a very sad story," I said. "Why do you think your mother told it to you?"

"So I would never wander off and be captured, I suppose," said Thorn. "But my mother knew my headstrong nature. She knew I might roam into places I shouldn't go. Maybe she wanted me to know that if ever I was captured, the rope that held me was a lie, and that if I chose, I could escape."

"It's never too late to stop believing a lie," said Thomas. "You need only courage and friends, and you have both."

~ Patrick Carman, _The Land of Elyon: Into the Mist_

* * *

The only things that keep Korra from going stir-crazy are her glimpses of Aang's past, which enable her to see places she has never visited in her current incarnation. That ability almost makes up for not being able to move about freely in her physical body.

She tries sleeping more, hoping to witness more of Aang's memories, but when she reaches a semi-conscious state, the visions that appear to her seem to be from her own subconscious. Her fear, confusion, and anger swirl into scenarios that startle her out of sleep.

_S__he is young, with short legs and arms, and a chubby stomach peeking out from the hem of her shirt. She is in the park with other children, playing in the pond while the park rangers are not looking. They try to catch fish with their bare hands, and sneak up on the frogs that rest in the water or the reeds._

_ The frogs remind Korra of an experiment she once read about in a science book. She sticks her hands in the water and somehow combines her waterbending and firebending to heat up the pond. It happens so gradually that the frogs do not notice the change until they are burning; then they want to jump out of the water, but they are paralyzed._

_ "It wasn't the water that killed them," a boy says to her. "It was his inability to decide when to jump." The boy looks almost like a mirror image of Korra, but she knows it is a boy. Is that how she would look if she were a boy? "Come play with us," he says, and she follows him to the open grassy area._

_ They begin playing hide-and-explode, with multiple teams and some confusing system of alliances. Korra finds herself encumbered by an armful of dolls, including the one Amon gave her long ago; the rest are borrowed from Asami. She cannot carry them with her while she runs, and they make her take up more space when she needs to find small spaces to hide in._

_ "I'll hide them for you," someone offers kindly, but it is a waterbender, and benders can't be trusted, so Korra shakes her head._

_ "I can help," another child says, this one a mean-looking non-bender._

_ Korra is afraid to entrust her dolls to either side. How can she choose?_

_ She decides to take a risk with the non-bender, but the girl throws the doll—which she realizes with horror is made of porcelain—on the ground, crushing it._

_ Korra is so upset she is unable to stop the other children, benders of all kinds, from taking her remaining dolls. One burns in flames; another dissolves in water; another sinks into the muddy earth._

_ And then they turn on her. "If you're not on our team," each side says, "you're the enemy."_

_ "I'm not! I'm not!" Korra cries, sorry for her dolls and afraid for herself._

She is truly crying when she wakes up. She clutches her sheets to her chest. It has been a long time since she had a real nightmare. She remembers running to Amon's room and snuggling with him until she fell asleep again. She wonders who stopped coming to the other first as she got older.

Asami asked her something after they went to that pro-bending match: _"Are you ever lonely?"_ Korra has always been fine with being alone, but now she misses everyone. She misses her family, her friends, and the person she thought her guardian was.

She writes about each dream in her journal and reads her accounts before ripping them out and tearing them apart. She cannot risk Amon learning about anything so private and precious as her subconscious. If he knew about the connection she made with Aang just days ago—she does not know what he would do, but it would bode no good.

Korra continues writing in an attempt to make sense of her situation, but when she writes in ordinary prose she merely rambles, her thoughts going in circles as usual. So she tries a list format instead.

_Things I'd do if I had unlimited physical and political power:  
1\. Replace monarchies and bureaucracies with democratically elected leaders  
2\. End air pollution  
3\. End water pollution  
4\. Use water- and earthbending to build vacation houses around the world—one of ice, one underwater, one on a mountain, one in a volcano_

These are all changes that Amon would probably approve. Maybe, if the revolution succeeds, Korra can achieve these goals afterward. That would be some consolation after failing to stop him from causing so much destruction.

Amon makes some effort to interact with her. He invites her to play pai sho, and she agrees because she has to keep her mind sharp. They play for best out of five games, but they are so evenly matched that they keep one-upping each other and arriving at a tie. They do chores. When they pass by each other, he attempts small talk, but it is hard to say much when so little changes. His niceties irritate her because she knows how empty they are.

As Korra stews about all the things he has done and plans to do, she turns to her journal again. Her pencil almost presses through the paper as she makes another list.

_Things I hate about him:  
1\. His smugness  
2\. His ethics  
3\. His secrets  
4\. His lies  
5\. His self-righteousness  
6\. His power  
7\. He has killed people (and I don't know whether this counts as murder)  
8\. He hurt my parents  
9\. He threatened my friends  
10\. He tries to make me feel like the bad guy in the situation  
11\. He won't let me be with people who I care about, or who care about me  
12\. He won't let me use my bending  
13\. He denies me my freedom  
14\. He denies me the chance to find my destiny  
15\. He wants me to love him in spite of everything  
16\. He knows what he did was wrong, but he won't admit it  
17\. He thinks love is enough to merit forgiveness even though he doesn't have any remorse  
18\. I don't know if I can stop loving him  
19\. I don't know if I can, or should, hate him  
20\. He makes me feel afraid, a feeling I hate_

Korra wonders how she could justify any soft feelings toward her adoptive father at this point, after learning what kind of person he really is. She finds herself making another list, a failed attempt to balance out the other.

_Things I like about him:  
1\. His cooking  
2\. His patience  
3\. His calmness  
4\. The way he changes his voice when quoting someone, telling a story, or reading a book  
5\. He used to take me camping  
6\. He taught me how to read, write, fish, swim, fight offensively  
7\. He didn't leave me in a terrible situation after kidnapping me  
8\. He took reasonably good care of me_

The last two might not count; they basically state that he was not as much of a jerk as he could have been. That phrase pulls at something in her memory—Korra thinks it had to do with Zuko before he switched sides in the Hundred Year War.

It occurs to Korra that she could list what she likes and dislikes about her friends as well. She misses them so much, but when she thinks about it, she still does not know them very well.

_Things I like about Bolin:  
1\. He taught me to appreciate pro-bending (which turned out to be really cool)  
2\. He likes animals  
3\. He is friendly  
4\. He is an open book  
5\. He made me realize not all benders are bad  
6\. He makes me feel good_

_Things I dislike about Bolin:  
1\. He trusts people too easily  
2\. He thinks he likes me, but he doesn't really know me  
3\. He will probably never know the real me  
4\. He cannot ever know the real me  
5\. He reminds me of what a rotten person I am  
6\. He would be starstruck if he knew I was the Avatar  
7\. He would be crushed if he knew I was an Equalist_

For some reason Korra feels uneasy when she thinks about Mako. She misses the scarf, now, and almost wishes she had not given it to Asami. She can understand why it means so much to him, having a physical connection to a loved one no longer with you.

_Things I like about Mako:  
1\. He loves his brother  
2\. He cares about Asami  
3\. He helped me without expecting anything in return  
4\. He seems to like me  
5\. Even if he doesn't like me, he is kind to me anyway  
6\. He let me borrow his scarf  
7\. He knows how to take care of himself and his one-person family (like me)  
8\. He was able to get away from the people who took care of him but weren't trustworthy (unlike me)_

Mako left the Triple Threats because that was the best thing for Bolin. Ironically, Korra is staying with Amon for the same reason.

_Things I dislike about Mako:  
1\. I don't know in what way or to what extent he cares about Asami  
2\. He acts unimpressed when I do things well  
3\. He purposely forms his eyebrows into weird shapes  
4\. He is better than me at firebending  
5\. He thinks my dad is abusive  
6\. He totally jumped to that conclusion  
7\. He turned out to be (kind of) right  
8\. He would hate me if he knew I was an Equalist  
9\. He would be completely justified in hating me_

Korra wonders if it would be better or worse if Mako were completely right, if Noatak was abusive in the way he imagined. It would probably be better, because then the only one whose safety would be at risk would be Korra herself. Then she could fight or leave without endangering anyone else.

She adds some items between the brothers' _dislike_ columns, showing that they have them in common:

_ ~ Their friends and former mentors are criminals  
~ I can't be completely myself around them.  
~ When they're nice to me I know I don't deserve it.  
~ I don't know how to tell the difference between liking either of them as a friend or as a potential boyfriend. And I can't even let myself think that way.  
~ They don't know how much I care about them and how much I'm sacrificing for them and even if it's selfish I want them to at least recognize how I feel and what I do for them._

* * *

Korra pays close attention to Amon's communication. He is too alert and observant for her to risk fully eavesdropping, but she takes note of the phone ringing and telegrams being delivered. He sometimes hears him speaking into a two-way radio in his bedroom, but she cannot get close enough to make out the words without him noticing.

After a week and several days, he answers the phone and has an unusual reaction: surprise, skepticism, suspicion, and finally a kind of shrewdness. Korra watches these strange shifts from her bedroom doorframe, ducking away when he glances in her direction. She sits casually on the floor, and absently arranges a solitaire game, until Amon finally hangs up and approaches her room.

He knocks politely before pushing the door open. "May I come in?"

"You're already doing that."

He opens the door fully and looks down at her. "Hiroshi just informed me that Asami is coming to call on you."

Korra tries to appear neutral, even as her heart leaps with hope and joy. She merely looks at him and says, "Oh."

"He wants you to speak with her about Equalism."

Her surprise makes the short but significant leap to shock. "He wants me to what now?"

Amon sits on the edge of her bed and explains. "Hiroshi knows of your work, and he believes you can help her to see things from our point of view."

"And you're going to make me?"

"I'm going to _let_ you go outside and have a private conversation with your friend."

"Huh?"

He taps his fingertips together, looking contemplative. "I've spent the last few days wondering how to end this arrangement, since it doesn't seem to be doing either of us any good. I realize, now, that you won't be able to prove your trustworthiness unless I give you a chance to prove it. This is how you can earn back your freedom. If you stay in line and do everything in your power to persuade her, I can make allowances for you to do other activities outside the apartment. It shouldn't be hard—you know why we fight and what we stand for. Help her to understand it."

"Asami and I have already talked about Equalism," Korra reminds him. "That's how I found out she doesn't believe in it—at least not your execution of it."

He merely shrugs. "What she does is ultimately up to her. All you have to do is lead the ostrich-horse to the water."

Korra understands the aphorism, but just to annoy him she mutters, "Asami's a million times smarter than an ostrich-horse."

He stands up and comes over to her, extending a hand. "There's something I need to do, first. Stand up."

"You're not …"

"You need to stay secret, Korra."

Of course: if she cannot bend, then any claim she makes to being the Avatar will simply be unbelievable. She thinks about fighting him, but then he might not let her leave at all. If she wants this concession, she will have to make one in return. So she stands up, albeit ignoring his outstretched hand, and braces herself for impact. She manages to stifle her gasps and remain standing as he jabs the pressure points on each arm and leg; it takes less than half a minute. Then he pats her arm and leaves her to get ready.

Korra wonders if this could be her chance to escape, but this wild hypothetical feels choked by deterrents and obstacles. The idea of leaving Republic City, and possibly never returning, brings a strange pain. Even though she came from elsewhere, she grew up in this city and considers it her home. More importantly, fleeing would leave Mako and Bolin vulnerable, and likely prompt Amon to go after them, as a way of punishing Korra. So if leave, the boys would have to leave as well, or find a safe place to hide in the city. Maybe the three of them—or four, if Asami joined them—could run away together. Could they survive as fugitives, or exiles, or immigrants? Korra wonders if she could find her parents, and whether would they be willing to let a few teenage strangers move in and stay with them.

She puts on some clean clothes, and tries to think of what, if anything, to bring. She takes her money from her jewelry box. She knows she cannot arouse Amon's suspicion by packing as though she intends to leave. As she looks around her room, she decides she really does not need anything here. All she owns is memorabilia of the life Amon built for her.

When the intercom buzzes, Amon beats her to the door. Asami's voice rings out. _"It's Asami. May I take Korra out for a while? Maybe get some lunch?"_

Amon presses the button and answers. "I don't see why not. But I'd like you to bring her back within two hours."

"I understand, sir."

He turns and sees Korra, dressed and ready to leave. He smiles at her in a way that does not quite reach his eyes; she cannot identify the emotion in them. He lays a heavy but gentle hand on her shoulder. "I know you'll do what's right."

Korra waits a beat before answering honestly, "I'll try."

She goes down the many stairs and finds Asami at the front door, dressed in her athletic Future Industries jumpsuit. When she smiles at Korra, her eyes are sad and tired, but also tender, understanding, forgiving.

Korra hugs her, because, in addition to being happy and relieved, she is pretty sure they both need it. She knows she is right when Asami holds onto her just as tightly: it is a hug that lingers, giving and receiving support. The past week has been hard for both of them.

"Are you okay?" Korra asks as they exit the building together.

"Of course I'm not. And neither are you."

"You're right, that was a stupid question."

Once they get in the car, Asami leans back in her seat with her hands folded across her stomach, sighing.

"Do you really want to get food?" Korra asks as she fastens her seatbelt. "I mean, we can if you want, but I don't have much of an appetite."

Asami pauses, steers the car away from the sidewalk, and then says, "Not really." She is quiet until they come to a red light; then she looks at Korra and asks, "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Yeah. And I think we should find someplace, you know, more private to talk about it. Private but open, in case—" She breaks off.

"You think that someone might follow us?"

"Yeah, I do. Or …" Korra soundlessly taps the police scanner in the car's dashboard.

Asami's eyes widen in understanding. She tries to move her lips without making sound. _Can they hear us?_

_Don't know for sure,_ Korra answers with a shrug.

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Asami makes a convincingly casual suggestion. "Why don't we get some tea?"

"That would be nice."

They find a teashop in an area that looks like the Fire Nation. Korra orders a blend that is supposed to both calm the mind and energize the body. Maybe that will help her think or fight her way through whatever happens now. Asami orders a fruit infusion that her mother used to drink. They violate traditional tea etiquette by getting their drinks to-go rather than sitting and taking the time to enjoy them, but they do not have the luxury of time, and there are too many people in the shop for them to be able to have a private conversation.

"We could go to the docks," Korra says, once they are back in the car with their drinks. She speaks clearly so her voice can be heard through any bugs planted in the car. "Not to use the boats or anything, just to see the ocean."

Asami nods. "Sounds good to me."

They park close enough to the docks that they will be able to keep the car in sight. Korra points out the longest, widest dock. "Want to race?"

In spite of everything, Asami smiles and takes off at the same moment as Korra.

After being indoors for so long, being able to run and jump and climb is exhilarating, like the first warm day after winter. This must be how animals feel when coming out of hibernation, their dormant strength and energy returning as they finally venture outside their safe but stifling shelters.

They both slow down near the end of the pier, come to a stop together, and look out at the bay as they catch their breath. The last time they were here together was one of those summer days spent boating and fishing with Korra's father.

Asami sits on the edge of the dock, her boots just barely touching the water below. "Will we be okay here?"

"I think so. I'm sure they're watching us, but they can't get close enough to hear us without our noticing." Korra sits sideways so she can keep one eye on the car and another on the water and horizon, with Asami directly in front of her.

They can speak freely now that they are alone, but neither of them is sure how to begin addressing the topic they are supposed to discuss.

After a moment, Asami begins asking questions to prompt her. "How long have you been … aware of this whole thing?"

"I've known for a few years," Korra admits.

"How long have you been personally, actively involved with it?"

"I started learning chi-blocking when I was fifteen. I started field work about a year ago."

"A _year_?"

"There was a lot of training involved, and things only started to pick up recently …"

"I can't believe it." Asami's carefully plucked eyebrows knit together. "But if you knew about it all along, then what just recently happened between you and your dad?"

"My dad also kept a secret from me, and it's even bigger than the movement. It's another I'd-tell-you-but-then-I'd-have-to-kill-you thing … it _does_ have to do with Equalism, though." Korra cannot make a claim that she cannot prove, but she supposes she can tell at least part of the truth. "I learned about something my dad did that made me pretty much lose my respect for him. We had a fight, and … he said if I left him or told anyone his secrets, he'd send Equalists to capture Mako and Bolin. Then they'd be imprisoned, probably equalized, and maybe tortured."

Asami blanches when she hears this. Korra pulls her legs up to her chest, feeling small and ashamed under her friend's horrified stare. "That's why I've been scared to do or say anything. I don't think my dad would hurt me, and I don't care if I get in trouble with the police or whoever, but I can't involve Mako and Bolin. I don't want you guys to suffer, least of all because of me." Korra feels bad enough knowing that her parents suffered—and perhaps are still suffering—because of her. No one else should, especially if it is in her power to prevent it. "Probably the only reason my dad let me go out tonight is because he has people watching them. If we do or say anything that threatens them, they'll snatch up the boys before we can reach them."

Now Asami looks angry. "So, our dads don't trust us after all."

"Not really. At least, mine doesn't trust me. He said he _wants_ to, though. He really wants me on his side."

"My dad wants that for me, too. I guess what I need to know now is … do you still support the Equalists? I mean, if you weren't being blackmailed, and you could walk away without anyone getting hurt, would you still work for them?"

"I … don't know anymore."

Asami reaches over to touch her hand. "Be honest with yourself. What does your conscience say?"

"That's the problem: it's pulling me two ways. Personal loyalties aside … some people really shouldn't have bending in their arsenal. Others—like Mako and Bolin, and the airbenders—I can't believe deserve to lose it. But I know how sincerely the Equalists believe in what they're doing. When I talk to people who believe in it, they're so confident … they have this conviction that makes it seem like they _must_ be right."

"They may have been right in the beginning—they may even still have some good points—but they've gone too far, and from what my father said, it sounds like they're planning to go even farther."

"Yeah. Meeting Mako and Bolin made me wonder if we might be wrong about benders—or bending—being inherently bad. Ever since the Revelation, when Amon revealed his power and his plan for equalizing the world, I've wondered whether he was making a mistake. I asked my da—" Korra almost slips up, forgetting how much Asami still does not know. "I asked whether Amon was planning to equalize all benders, even children and airbenders. For kids it seems harsh, and for airbenders it seems unnecessary. But he says he can't make exceptions."

Asami exhales and seems to steel herself. "Okay. Listen. When you were at my house and we talked about the Equalists … I didn't mention this, because, well, it's an awkward analogy. It's my reason for knowing from the start that Amon's plan for 'equalizing' people is wrong. The way I see it, taking away bending in order to prevent violence is like castrating a man to prevent rape."

Korra gapes, shocked at such a crude and accusatory comparison from such a refined and open-minded friend.

Asami holds up a gloved hand to ask for patience. "Hear me out. You can try to justify either measure by saying they don't need that particular thing to survive. But taking that thing is a personal, bodily invasion, and takes away a part of them, something that can bring them pleasure and even has the power to create good things."

Korra thinks this over for a moment. "Okay … but that doesn't change the fact that rape is wrong," she points out.

"Yeah, but so is punishing many for the actions of a few. It'd be hurting people to prevent them from hurting people, which makes no sense." Asami pauses. "If you want a female comparison—imagine if someone suggested performing mastectomies on women, to prevent them from seducing men. How would you feel if someone did that you you?"

Korra almost unconsciously folds her arms over her breasts. She remembers her own mixed feelings when they started to develop, what a nuisance they were when she exercised. But, if she is honest with herself, she is used to them, even to the point of liking them. Ultimately, their purpose is to nurture: if she ever has children, they will depend on that part of her, enhancing her physical and psychological bond with her children. Losing them would mean losing that ability and experience.

Asami finishes, her voice soft but sure, summing up the hypothetical loss. "You'd still be you, but you wouldn't be the same. There would always be a piece of you missing."

Korra closes her eyes, feeling like she is finally giving in after holding out in her beliefs for as long as she could. "I can see what you mean." A disconcerting yet amusing thought crosses her mind, and she quirks an eyebrow at Asami. "Did you tell your dad you thought of this?"

Asami snorts, momentarily cracking a smile. "No way. Not that I wouldn't like to—and I'd love to see the look on his face if I did—but if I'd told him what I really think, he wouldn't have let me out of the house."

"How _did_ you convince him to let you go out?"

"He taught me a thing or two about persuasion; and he _wanted_ to hear what I said, so he believed it pretty easily. I told him I wanted to talk to you and see what you thought about the whole thing. He was thrilled—apparently you're an exemplary Equalist. He thinks you can finish my conversion."

"My dad wants me to do that, too. He says if I do, he'll un-ground me. So … if I can't, do you think you could fake it, for my sake?"

Asami laughs, briefly, before giving her a strange look. "Are you serious?"

"Eh … kind of." Korra feels sheepish under Asami's gaze.

Asami lowers her eyes, looking at her gloved hands resting on her lap. Her voice is grim. "Korra … you know how I feel about the Equalists. There's no way I can support them. And I don't want to pretend I do. Even if, I don't know, I spied on them for the police, deceiving him would be wrong. So my options are total loyalty, or total betrayal."

"No middle ground?"

"Not in this case. There's middle ground between benders and Equalists who want to fight each other, but where our dads are concerned … I don't see any." Asami raises her head and looks Korra in the eye. "I want to go to the police, and I want you to come with me."

Korra is not surprised, but hearing the words spoken aloud makes her grimace and clench her fists. Asami continues, "I know it's betraying our dads—and, if you stand by them, it would hurt you too—but some things are more important. It's like, honor on a personal level—being loyal to people you should be loyal to—and honor on a different level, being a good person, doing the right thing."

"Which level is higher?"

"The latter. I think sticking with your moral code matters more than loyalty to a person. I can't just ignore what I learned and let them keep hurting people. If the Equalists really want to 'equalize' the whole world, then eventually they'll go after innocent people, including our friends. If it's in my power to expose them, to help the police stop them—I don't think I have a choice."

The very act of saying those words puts them, and the boys, in danger. Plus, Asami is taking a huge risk by addressing those words to Korra, an Equalist who has not officially deserted. "What makes you think you can trust me? Besides the fact that we're friends."

Asami shrugs coolly. "I thought, if you were being pressured into this, you should at least be given the chance to decide for yourself. If you don't want to come, you can run. I won't chase you. If you try to stop me … well, I don't know which of us is a better fighter when it comes right down to it." She flexes her fingers in her lap, and Korra wonders, too, what it would be like if they truly fought each other, holding nothing back. "I think I could take you out before speeding to the police station. That's not a threat—"

"It's okay, I understand." Korra appreciates that Asami stayed to offer her a way out. But going to the police would not be a mere escape from this mess; it would be switching sides, submitting to a different authority, the benders, the government, the police. "Do you know what that will mean for me?"

"Yes, but I think it's ultimately in your best interests to turn yourself in. They might let you off easier because you were influenced by your father. You might get some jail time, but it won't be as bad as it will if you're still fighting for the Equalists when they fall."

"I'm not sure that they will. You don't know them like I do; they're efficient and they'll fight to the death for their cause."

Asami folds her arms, annoyed at Korra's contrariness. "So are you trying to choose based on who you think will win?"

"No!"

"So, deep down, you know the Equalists are wrong."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean the other side is necessarily right. I've been going over this in my head for days, and I can see the good and bad in both sides, and that just makes it harder to choose one over the other."

"Here's how I see at the situation. It's not about the _people_ involved, because there's always bound to be a mix of good and bad people on each side—that happens in most conflicts. So it's really about the _principles_ involved. We each need to do what we believe is right … even if it's not what the people we love think is right. Can you understand that?"

"Yes. I agree."

"If you don't like the benders in our government … what do you think would help more people? Letting the Equalists take over, or working in the system to make things better?"

Korra looks out over the bay. She remembers the list she made of things she would do if she had unlimited power. Her physical and spiritual power may be limited, but it is still great, and so is her potential political power … if only she could make full use of it.

If she can be free to be the Avatar, she will be able to put an end to the corruption in the world's political and economic systems. Amon will not let her do that, because he wants to be the people's hero as long as he is alive and able to lead them. But the benders in Republic City's government might help her embrace her role as the Avatar, and then she could enact the kind of changes the non-benders and other disadvantaged groups need.

"I guess … I can live with working in the system."

Asami nods, satisfied with this answer.

"But," Korra continues, "you're forgetting the biggest reason I haven't done anything. Mako and Bolin. Our dads will know something's up when we don't come home in time, and in the time it takes us to convince the police we're telling the truth, the Equalists could snatch up the boys."

Asami does not seem to be thinking the same way she is: where Korra sees only obstacles, Asami continues to present ideas, looking for gaps between the prison bars. "We could get the boys ourselves and bring them with us while we go to the police. Or we could drive them out of the city before we go."

"That doesn't seem fair to them. Our going to get them will mean they _have_ to leave their home."

"Well, they're already in danger. That won't change no matter what we choose. So I say we pick the boys up, tell them what we're doing, and tell them their options: they can hide, leave the city, or come with us."

Korra remembers Aang's memories of decisions his friends made. That old earthbender king believed in doing nothing, waiting for the right moment to take action. How can she tell which moment is the right one?

She stalls by thinking about the logistics of the decision. It is not so very late, but she is already tired. If she turns herself in, she will have to spend spend hours confessing, and going through whatever procedure they have for documenting new criminals. Then where will she sleep? In a holding cell at the police station, or in the prison?

If she does not go now, then when? Amon might not let her go out tomorrow. She has no way of knowing when she will have another chance. What if she never gets another opportunity like this?

Asami interrupts her deliberation. "The longer we wait to decide, the more dangerous it'll be to side with the city. If we tell them what we know now, they might be able to get an advantage on the Equalists. If you wait until they do something bad that tips you over the edge, you'll wish you had helped stop them earlier."

Korra knows she is right. There will always be a reason not to go. They have already ruled out the best reasons. She shouldn't give in to such stupid excuses. She should be as strong in her resolve as she is in her body and personality.

In truth, Korra knows what she has to do. She only wishes that she did not have to do it—to push away her father figure once and for all; to abandon her old, comfortable way of life; to ally herself with strangers who may not be trustworthy themselves, in the hope of finding the ones who are.

She thinks of Toph Beifong, and Lord Zuko and his wife, who all defied their parents to fight for Avatar Aang and his friends. She hopes she can have the same kind of courage and conviction they had during the Hundred Year War.

Korra swallows and says, "Okay." She meets Asami's eyes. "If we can get the boys to safety, then I'll go to the police with you."

Asami smiles in true gratitude. "Thank you."

They both stand up slowly. Once on her feet, Korra takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with fresh, salty air. This is also the place where she first arrived in the United Republic of Nations, where she decided to give her kidnapper a chance and let him be her father. Now, in the same spot, she is casting him off. She thinks of the way they said goodbye, less than two hours ago, as though they would not have time to miss each other. It was not the kind of farewell exchanged before parting ways for a long time, possibly forever. Yet there would be no good way for the two of them to say goodbye if they knew they were going to fight against each other.

She mentally prays to her past lives: _Please help me._

"Let's find a restroom before we go." Asami lowers her voice to add, "If we have to fight, better not have a full bladder." Korra laughs but agrees because she has a good point.

They each keep watch while the other uses a public toilet near the beach. In the stall, Korra flexes her fingers and rubs them together, willing them to light with fire. They spark, and a few small flames emerge from between them, but she cannot sustain it. She supposes this means her chi is no longer completely blocked, but it is not flowing well enough to use her bending effectively.

They try to look casual as they walk back to the Satomobile. Asami takes Korra's hand and squeezes it reassuringly. "We're doing the right thing."

Korra nods. "I know. I just hope we won't regret it."

"I don't think we'll ever regret doing the right thing."

"It's possible. Sometimes doing what's right can cause more trouble than if you'd done nothing, or done the wrong thing."

Asami smiles playfully. "Maybe we should start a school of philosophy. We could be the heads of rival debate teams." They used to say things like this often, hypothesizing plans for future ventures in which they would be partners.

Korra hopes this plan will not be like the others. This is the first one they are actually taking steps to carry out. They never risked or invested anything to carry out their other plans. For this plan they are risking their freedom and investing their future.

This way of thinking is not helpful, Korra reminds herself. On missions with the Equalists, she didn't stop to think about the big picture, of the overarching goals and stakes; she always had to focus on the immediate action. Right now her priority is to protect her friends. Once she accomplishes that, she will allow herself to worry about the other points.

* * *

Music: "Bet On It" from _High School Musical 2_, and "On the Steps of the Palace" from _Into the Woods_. I got the idea for Korra's lists from the song "Seven Things" by Miley Cyrus.

Author's Note: I would appreciate feedback on Korra and Asami's discussion, since that was tricky to arrange. Do the flow and rhythm work?


	16. Stand By Me

_Published December 23, 2016. Happy holidays!_

"Stand By Me"

* * *

The greeting between the lovers was warm, but brief, for minutes were precious, and there was much to be done.

"We must make our start at once," said Jefferson Hope, speaking in a low but resolute voice, like one who realizes the greatness of the peril, but has steeled his heart to meet it.

~ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, _A Study in Scarlet_

* * *

Amon brainstorms parts of a speech while he waits for communication from his spies via radio. He fights the impulse to glance repeatedly at the clock, but he cannot help noticing the other signs of time passing: the light through the window shifts on the floor and wall of his bedroom, and the bells of the Avatar Aang Memorial clock announce each quarter-hour.

Hiroshi Sato is also on the line, stationed in the underground warehouse, monitoring the bug planted in Asami's Satomobile. The girls have been mostly quiet in the car, and left it for periods of time. What little they have said within the bug's range has been ambiguous.

He was slightly concerned when they went to the docks, in the southwestern part of the city, in the vicinity of the police station and the Pro-Bending Arena. That could have meant they were going to report what they knew, see the pro-bender boys, or attempt to flee by boat. But his agents have confirmed that the girls went to the docks only to sit and talk. They should be thinking about coming home by now.

The radio crackles, and an agent speaks: "The subjects are leaving the docks."

Good. At least, Amon hopes it is.

The agents have orders not to engage Korra or Asami in combat. If the girls try to fight, they are to be captured, not injured. Amon knows his best power over them will be hostages, not strength or skill.

He both loves and fears the part of Korra that is most like him. She has already followed his example, albeit unknowingly, by turning against her father and refusing to cooperate with his plans. If she runs away, it will prove that she is just like him.

He wants her to be like him, but he needs her to be … the way his father wanted him to be.

He cannot banish the thought, once it enters, but he wrestles with it, pins it down and teaches it a lesson: the two situations are completely different. Yakone tried to make his sons carry out a personal agenda of revenge on his behalf. Amon wants Korra to help him carry out an agenda that will benefit humankind.

"They've turned south and are heading down the peninsula."

Amon traces the map with his finger, and realizes what the observers have not yet deduced.

The girls are approaching the Arena.

For a moment Amon is completely still. He is not altogether surprised, but …

As much as he meant to be equally prepared for either outcome, he had hoped that she would choose him.

He feels physical sensations he has not experienced for a long time: tightness in his chest and throat; stinging in his eyes. Spirits, when was the last time he _cried_? He thought he was stronger than that. No, he _is_ stronger than that. He fights it, calms his body with deep breaths, and wills the salty water back from his eyes. Does bending one's own body fluids count as self-control?

Amon steels his heart, resigning himself to the reality of the situation. Korra made her choice. She chose the enemy, knowing well what the ramifications would be. She made the wrong decision. Fine. She will face the consequences. He has no option but to retaliate. Eventually she will come to understand. She will learn that subordination is unacceptable. She will not make the same mistake again.

He picks up the radio and says, "Unit One: move in."

* * *

Korra clenches her hands into fists, moves her arms as though trying to get her blood flowing, but she is really trying to circulate her chi. If she is going to meet the police and come clean with her friends, she needs to be able to bend in order to prove the veracity of her story; and if they have to fight, she had best be able to utilize whatever elements are available.

Her heart sinks when she sees other vehicles parked as close as legally possible to the Arena: a getaway van and two motorcycles. Standing guard is a man she recognizes, Pazo, in plainclothes. He was an instructor in her chi-blocking classes one of the lower-security levels where they knew each other's names and only wore bandanas on their lower faces. "They're already here. We have to hurry!"

Pazo's eyes widen when he catches sight of the girls pulling up. Korra hops out before Asami stops the vehicle, running toward him as he steps into the cab and grabs the radio. "I have a visual, repeat, the two main—" He is cut short when Korra arrives at the driver's side and socks him in the jaw. Then she yanks him out and throws him to the ground with all the strength she can muster; his landing is hard enough, and his grunt pained enough, that he may have some broken bones. He looks at her with an emotionally as well as physically hurt expression. "I thought you were on our side," he wheezes.

Korra grimaces. "You and me both." Then she lands a kick in the shoulder that knocks him out cold. As she carries him into the back of the van, she sees Asami crouching next to one of the motorcycles, letting the air out of the tires. "Good thinking." She looks around, picks up a sizable rock, and smashes it into the van's radio. Amon and whoever else was listening will know something is wrong, but at least this unit will not be able to get back in touch with them. Next, Korra searches Pazo's pockets and the van's glove compartment, and finds a few useful items: two bolas, three canisters of green gas, and an electric glove. She gives the glove to Asami, confident she can figure out how it works, and takes the canisters and bolas, since she has the most experience using them.

Asami hesitates as they go inside. "Maybe one of us should stay with the car?"

Sabotage _is_ a considerable possibility, but Korra shakes her head. "It'd be too easy for them to take us out one at a time. We need to stick together."

They run up to the Arena, taking the stairs two at a time. The doors are open, possibly by force, so they waste no time running toward the boys' tower. They run up the flights of stairs, which Korra fears will drain them of energy before they can even fight.

They can hear shouts and thuds, growing louder as they go down the hallway. "Hang on," Asami says, stopping. "Listen."

The voices are closer than they would be if they were coming from the attic.

"Sic 'em, Pabu! Use those incisors!"

"Does he even _have_ incisors?"

"They're in the gym," Asami realizes. They follow the sound of the shouts on the route to the room they visited last time they were here.

The double doors to the gym are open. Chunks of earth discs litter the floor, the large net is ripped, and some barrels of water have been upset and spilled. Mako and Bolin are both down, at opposite ends of the gym, and a team of five Equalists, including Amon's Lieutenant, stand over them, some brandishing bolas and kali sticks. Pabu adds to the chaos by running around the Equalists' feet, too quick for any of them to catch but persistent enough to distract them.

"Guys!" Asami shouts from the doorway.

"Get away from them!" Korra yells.

The Equalists are startled, turning or glancing over their shoulders to see the newcomers.

Mako is incredulous and dismayed. "_Asami_?"

Bolin cheers ecstatically. "_Korra!_"

"Stand your ground," the Lieutenant orders the Equalists. "Do _not_ engage them." This surprises the teenagers, but the girls quickly understand.

"You'll have to engage us, unless you free them!" Korra informs them loudly.

The Lieutenant has never seen Korra without a hooded uniform, but he has interacted with her enough times that he recognizes her voice and the way she carries herself. "You. You're the one Amon said to watch out for? Are you the reason we were sent?"

Mako and Bolin look at Korra in confusion. She grits her teeth, hating the Lieutenant for being the one to reveal that she has a connection with the Equalists. "I should've guessed you, of all people, would be here."

For the first time, Korra sees something other than efficiency in the Lieutenant's partially-masked face: resentment, or perhaps an even stronger emotion, is visible in his eyes and the set of his mouth. "I never liked you," he says, still addressing Korra. "Amon always seemed too interested in you. Accepting someone that young, expediting the training process … What is his case with you?"

While their attackers' attention is off of them, Mako and Bolin slowly get back on their feet. Seeing this, Korra tries to draw out the ceasefire. "You mean he hasn't told you? Huh. Maybe you're not as close to him as you think."

At this jab, the Lieutenant looks ready to break his own exhortation not to attack the girls. Before he can do anything, Asami steps forward, extending her arm so they can see the Equalist glove on her hand. "You can either leave now, or stand and fight us. Either way, we're not letting you take them."

"You _traitors_!" the Lieutenant spits. "You had _everything!_" He twirls his kali sticks in his hands and barks an order to the agents in his charge: "Take the benders into custody."

Korra moves quickly, sliding the canisters out of her coat and throwing them at each cluster of Equalists. Each one explodes and releases green gas, obscuring half of the gym. Korra goes toward Bolin and his attackers while Asami makes her way toward Mako, having to bypass the Lieutenant as she does. The gas allows them to get up close quickly and choose which direction to approach without being seen in advance, and Korra knows how to move soundlessly.

By the time the smoke dissipates, Korra is just a few feet away from Bolin and the two Equalists who are hastily tying his hands behind his back, and Asami is halfway between the Lieutenant on her right and Mako and two Equalists restraining him on her left.

Korra meets Bolin's assailants hand-to-hand quite easily. Like her, they are more used to fighting benders and quickly subduing them by blocking their chi. Bolin cheers, "Go Korra!" as she dodges and punches and tries to improvise a way to take them down. She makes her way to the ripped netting, and through some tricky maneuvering manages to trip up one of the Equalists and wrap it around him.

Asami faces the Lieutenant first. He lashes out with his kali sticks, but Asami grabs his arm and twists it until the electric tool touches his own body, and keeps it there until he goes limp and falls onto the floor unconscious. Then she moves on to the other two Equalists holding Mako back. One of them has a glove like hers, which she has to dodge as she tries to stun him. Mako manages to stick out his leg and trip one of them, causing him to fall into the other, giving Asami the new seconds she needs to get an opening. In less than a minute both are unconscious.

Korra's fight with the last Equalist crosses over into Asami and Mako's area. Seeing that she now has two opponents, the chi-blocker pulls out a bola and throws it at Korra, who dives out of its trajectory. Asami moves behind the chi-blocker and touches her back with the electric glove. After five suspenseful seconds, the last Equalist falls onto the floor.

Korra and Asami are both left panting, and meet each other's eyes in slight awe.

"We did it," Asami says, offering a hopeful half-smile.

"Yeah," Korra says, and then realizes, "We're really in for it now."

Bolin puffs and exclaims, "That—was—incredible!"

Korra lets Asami assist her boyfriend, and goes to help Bolin up instead. She unties his hands and helps him stand, and once he is back on his feet he catches her in a hug. A few realizations strike Korra in quick succession: how strong he is, how much she missed him, and how close she just came to losing him or being responsible for his suffering. She matches his strength, squeezing him just as tightly and pressing her face into his neck. For him the hug speaks of gratitude; for her it simultaneously brims with relief and fear.

When she lifts her head, Bolin catches her face in his hands and plants a kiss on her cheek. "You are my hero," he proclaims.

Korra manages a smile. "I just wish we'd gotten here sooner. Are you okay?" She looks over at Mako, and is startled to see him in a full liplock with Asami, the two of them holding each other like long-lost lovers.

"We're fine … thanks to you," Bolin says, still smiling.

When Mako breaks his kiss, he looks at Asami with wide eyes, which could signify any of a range of emotions. "I don't even know what to say!"

"You're welcome." Asami steps away from him and embraces Bolin good-naturedly. Korra and Mako meet each other's eyes and hesitate before coming together for a hug. He holds her more gently than his brother did; her cheek brushes his scarf, so familiar to her now.

Mako lets go and steps away, looks back and forth between the two girls. "Was that just good timing, or did you know …"

"We had a feeling something like this might happen," Asami admits.

"It's a long story," Korra warns.

"While we tell it, we should call the cops—more could come," Asami says.

"The only phone is in Butakha's office, and it's locked," Mako says.

"Then we'll break in! This is an emergency."

Bolin scoops Pabu up in his arms. "Okay, the creepy guys in bug suits were scary, but now, _you're_ starting to scare me," he says frankly.

"Good," Korra responds. "You _should_ be scared. That's how serious this is."

Mako leads the way, but casts looks of confusion and suspicion over his shoulder. When they reach the office door, Asami extracts a pin from her hair and uses it to pick the lock. Once inside, she goes quickly to the phone and tries it. "The phone is dead," Asami reports after just a few seconds. "They must have cut the line."

Korra is not surprised. She turns to the boys and bluntly gives them the bottom line: "We have to go to the police."

Bolin nods and starts to follow the girls, but Mako grabs his arm and holds him back. "No."

"Mako, you don't understand—"

"We're not going anywhere with you until you give us some answers. You owe us that much. Why did you stop communicating with us? How did you know to come tonight? And how do you know that guy?"

Korra knows this should not be the moment she comes clean. Telling the truth now will use up what little time they have, and might increase rather than decrease the boys' mistrust. But Mako is right. They have little reason to trust her and Asami after all the silence and secrecy, and showing up at the moment of the fight pretty much confirms their connection to the Equalists.

She sighs. "Fine. We'll try to tell you everything, but it's going to be hard to process, and then you have to decide what you want to do to stay safe."

Even Asami looks apprehensive when she hears this prologue. "Do _you_ want to tell them, or should I?" she asks.

"I think I should," Korra says, reluctant but resigned. "I've known this stuff all along, and there are some things you still don't know, Asami. If you do believe us, you'll know how much I've hid and lied about, but I have to ask you guys to trust us when I've finished."

"Okay, what's the big secret?" Bolin demands.

"Both of our fathers are Equalists." Korra pauses so that can sink in; Mako and Bolin gape at her, immediately shocked and gradually horrified. "Asami only found out a couple days ago, but I've known for years."

"You." Mako steps between Bolin and Korra, giving her a hard look. "Are you one of them?"

She nods. "I was. My dad let me join up a few years ago. I know chi-blocking, and I've gone on missions …"

"You're an Equalist?" Bolin splutters incredulously. "But you're—you were so—nice!"

Korra's mouth twitches as she wants to smile. "Yeah, and I was surprised a couple of benders could be so nice. You guys showed me that I was wrong about a lot of things I believed."

Mako cuts in, glaring at Korra. "You know, when you threatened the Triple Threats, I wondered if there was something shady about you. And all this time, you've been acting like our friend."

"I _wanted_ to be, and I hated deceiving you. That's why I couldn't date you, Bolin, and why I told you to forget about me, Mako. I pushed you away because I wanted to keep you out of danger. But now you _are_ in danger … and that _is_ my fault, but I never meant for it to happen."

"Our dads threatened to go after you if we told anyone the truth about them," Asami explains. "That's why they sent hit men tonight—we were about to turn them in."

"Really?" Mako's tone is as mistrustful as his facial expression.

"That's not all," Korra says. "I have more secrets than even you know, Asami."

"Is now really the time?"

"Yeah, I think so." She wants to come clean, and help them understand what kept her from reaching out to them for the past few weeks. "My dad—my _adoptive_ dad—isn't just an Equalist. He's their leader. Amon."

Now it is Asami's turn to be taken aback. "What?"

"He has this kind of double life—I mean, more than the average Equalist does. He made this whole iconic persona. And he kept another secret, from me, that I only found out recently. That's what really created this mess." She looks to Bolin and Asami. "Mako helped me find out that my adoption wasn't legal. The guy I call my dad kidnapped me when I was four years old."

"So it _was_ your dad who took you," Mako says, the pieces coming finally together in his mind. "But _Amon_ …" He runs a hand through his hair. "No wonder you were scared to go back to him."

"But—why would he do that?" Asami asks. "That's not something a lot of Equalists do, is it?"

"Not as far as I know. Amon targeted me and took me because … my biological parents believed that I was the Avatar."

"What?" Asami gasps.

"No way," Bolin scoffs.

"He told you this?" Mako questions.

"No," Korra answers. "I read about it in an old newspaper at the library. That's what gave me the idea to investigate my adoption. The supposed Avatar was kidnapped thirteen years ago, and her name was Korra."

"But you're not even a bender," Bolin says.

Korra shakes her head. "Another lie. I've always had memories of bending, but I thought they were just dreams. After I read that article, I tried bending, for the first time since I was little—and I can do it. Three out of four elements, anyway."

"Prove it," Mako says.

She lamely looks down at her hand. "I don't know if I can …" It has been at least two hours since Amon blocked her chi, and she certainly felt her blood and adrenaline flowing well during the brawl just minutes ago. So she holds out her hand and concentrates, until a flame sputters up in her palm.

Asami gasps, her hands flying to her mouth, as astonished as though she has never seen such a thing before, though she surely has. The boys gape with equal surprise, though Bolin's incredulous expression is almost comical, while Mako looks troubled, his face clouded with confusion and concern.

Korra extinguishes the flame and looks around for another element. She spots the water that spilled onto the gym floor. She walks over and bends the liquid into the air, turning so her friends can see it follow her hands.

"No—way," Bolin breathes, watching the water float in the air. Korra wants to smile at how impressed he is. He turns to the other two and whispers incredulously, "_The _Avatar!"

Korra drops the water back onto the floor. "After I found out the truth, I wanted to leave and look for my biological parents, but my dad—_Amon_ threatened to have you both captured and take your bending if I told anyone the truth about who he is and what he did. They came after you tonight because he figured out I was going to do that."

The brothers stare at her, newly surprised, somewhat frightened, and, for the second time that evening, grateful.

"You guys have to make a decision now," Asami says. "You can come with us to the police station, or we can give you a ride out of the city. I have money; you could get tickets for the next boat or train out of the United Republic."

"You can wait until things cool down here," Korra explains. "The city's not going to be safe for a while yet, at least not for benders."

The brothers exchange glances, checking for the other's opinion. Bolin shrugs and tries to smile. "A trip out of town could be fun. Maybe we could find Mom and Dad's relatives."

Mako is unconvinced. He looks at the girls. "Would we ever see you again?"

"I don't know," Asami says. "Maybe."

Korra is less optimistic. "Probably not."

Mako deliberates for a moment, weighing the probable danger and possible safety of each option. Finally he says, "I think we should go with you. We have a little strength in numbers. Splitting up could put both groups in danger."

Bolin nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turns to the girls and confirms, "We're with you."

"There's no time to lose," Asami says.

They go quickly to the Arena's main entrance. "I don't suppose you guys can bend yet?" Korra murmurs.

Mako holds up his hand, and manages to conjure a small but persistent flame. "Soon enough," he says.

Asami cracks open the doors and cautiously looks outside. "It looks like our ride is still here, but they could be hiding, waiting for us to come out."

Bolin speaks up, his voice quiet but urgent. "Korra, if we don't make it, I want you to know that meeting you has been―"

"You don't have to tell me, Bolin," Korra says flatly.

"We don't really have time to be sentimental," Mako points out.

"I'm not," Bolin insists, "I'm just saying, we're with you all the way."

Korra turns to the brothers and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. "Amon won't equalize anyone tonight. I promise."

Bolin nods, solemn for once.

"Let's go," Asami says, and they follow her outside.

Descending the stairs and walking past the Equalist vehicles to the Satomobile feels too exposed. They take the same seats they had during their double date, with Mako at Asami's side while Korra and Bolin share the back. Asami is quick in starting the car and turning it around to head toward the police station. "The car is probably bugged," Asami informs the boys, "but I'm not sure it matters anymore."

Someone behind them shouts: "There they are!"

The teenagers turn around and see the Lieutenant and two or three chi-blockers rushing down the Arena stairs. Asami presses the pedal to the floor, causing the engine to make an obnoxious revving sound as the car peels away.

"Those guys won't get far," Korra assures the boys. "We busted their radio and let the air out of their tires."

Mako looks impressed. "Nice."

"But they've probably sent other units to intercept us," she continues. "So keep your eyes peeled."

"Roger that," Bolin says, looking closely at the sidewalks they pass.

Korra tries to picture the route they need to take, going up the peninsula and turning west. Then she realizes something she should have thought of sooner. She leans forward to speak to Asami. "Wait—we can't go this way! It's too close to one of the tunnel entrances!"

Asami's voice is shrill with alarm. "You mean there are more tunnels besides the one under my house?"

"Are you kidding? They're all around the city!"

"Why don't _you_ drive, since you know where they're likely to be?"

"You know I'm not good enough—"

"We got company!" Bolin calls out, pointing down an intersecting street. As they cross, they can see several Equalists on motorcycles as well as a truck turning to follow them.

"Well, aren't we popular?" Asami gripes, accelerating past the speed limit. She alone keeps her eyes ahead of the car, while the three passengers look at the pursuers behind them.

Mako stands up and turns around. "Get down!" Korra and Bolin obey and watch him. He aims two fingers of his right hand, but instead of fire, _lightning_ comes out of his outstretched fingertips. They hear the sounds of small explosions as the electricity hits the vehicles behind them and causes a few to crash.

Korra sits up slowly, looking at Mako with new respect, a little fear, admiration, and something like envy. Firebending just got a whole lot cooler in her eyes. She wonders, can she learn to do that?

Mako's eyes widen, and he plops back into his seat exclaiming, "Duck!"

Everything happens very fast after that.

Something yanks on Korra's high ponytail, and some force pulls her backwards. Her back hits the metal frame of the Satomobile; Bolin tries to grab her but the car continues at its fast speed while the cyclist decelerates, and Korra is pulled back and lands on the street between the two parties. The wind is knocked out of her lungs, her whole body feels bruised, and pain seizes her shoulders and back. She wheezes, unable to breathe properly.

_"Korra!"_ There is a screech of tires, and when Korra lifts her head she sees the car turning so it blocks the flow of traffic further down the street. Then two Equalists on motorcycles come around, blocking the car from her view.

Korra turns her head, sees the chi-blockers getting off their vehicles and surrounding her. All at once, her determination redoubles. It cannot end this quickly. She will _not_ be that man's prisoner again!

She manages to push herself up enough to try a defensive technique. She swipes her legs out in an arc, a move that could swipe a person at close distance off their feet, but now, she tries to send out fire through her feet. It works—the chi-blockers have to jump back—but once she comes to a stop, the ones behind her close in. She pushes herself back onto her feet and turns to face them. She can do this, she's the freaking _Avatar_.

She punches out with fire, then stomps her foot and clumsily pummels another section of attackers with chunks of pavement. Suddenly a cable catches her right wrist, and then her left. Korra strains against the force pulling her down, trying to get her on her knees.

Mako's voice rings out, much closer than expected: "Let her go!" Her friends are just outside the circle surrounding Korra. Mako and Bolin try to break through using their bending, and Asami takes down a chi-blocker with the glove, pushing him aside as she enters the fray. Four teenagers against a dozen-odd highly trained Equalists.

Bolin hits the cables restraining Korra with two well-aimed cobblestones, breaking the chi-blockers' grips and giving her a chance to slide her wrists out. Then Bolin tries to raise walls of earth between his friends and their attackers, but the Equalists leap over them with ease. Korra holds her own against two of them, no longer bothering to attempt to bend; but Bolin is not familiar with their fighting style, and cannot block their punches and kicks as she does. Before a minute has transpired, his chi is blocked again, and he stumbles onto the ground.

Someone snags Asami with a bola, and she falls among the bodies of the Equalists she herself stunned with electricity. Mako moves to keep the oncoming Equalists away from her, but they block his chi too, and his hand-to-hand skills are not nearly well practiced enough to match that of his attackers.

Korra sees her friends fall around her, something that has never happened in any fight she has been in before. For the first time she can remember, she fears that they will lose this fight; and yet she feels a stronger conviction than ever that they cannot lose.

At that moment, everything comes rushing to her: every affection for her friends; every dream about her parents; every outrage against Amon; every fear harbored in these last few weeks. Her body and spirit rise on this tide of thoughts and emotions, which fuels her resolve and carve a path for her energy, which flows through her and spews out of her in movement and fire.

The voices of a thousand generations echo through Korra's, moving her mouth to form three distinct words:

_ "LEAVE US ALONE."_

For an indeterminate amount of time—perhaps less than one minute, or perhaps several—she moves and bends with gestures that are both foreign and familiar; she is aware of someone working through her—not forcing her to move, like bloodbending, but showing her how, and she aligns her will to theirs. This continues until the threat is gone, all her enemies either subdued or frightened into fleeing.

The tide of her emotions and raw power calms and ebbs, lowering her body and releasing her spirit. Her strength fades, like water draining, earth crumbling away from a cliff, fire dimming until it flickers out, and she collapses ungracefully on the pavement.

A moment passes. Then, gentle hands turn Korra onto her back. As she blinks and focuses her eyes, she sees Asami kneeling next to her. "What … happened?" Korra wheezes.

"They're gone," Asami answers. Her expression conveys little more than her characteristic concern. "… Do you feel okay?"

Korra tries to take a self-assessment: most of her body hurts, but not in any incapacitating way. "… I think so."

Asami helps her sit up slowly, and then Korra sees their surroundings.

The streetlamps are broken, but there is light from burning debris scattered across the street. The asphalt is broken up like fault lines between tectonic plates. Only her three friends are there—no, some people are coming out on the periphery, peeking from doorways and around the corners of buildings. Most seem to be in shock; many look afraid; and a few look angry.

"Who's leaving who alone, huh?"

"Evil Avatar!"

"I'm calling the cops!"

"… public menace!"

"_This_ is why we need Amon!"

"Did I do this?" Korra says, almost whispering. Bolin and Mako stand off to the side looking at her, eyes wide with … caution? Bewilderment? Fear? Does she frighten them? Did she come close to hurting them? Korra's breathing is shallow, as the enormity of what happened—what she did—comes down on her like a flash flood.

"Korra." She feels Asami's hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm. "Are you okay?"

"He was right." Korra's voice is hardly more than a whisper. "It's destructive. _I'm—_"

"Hush." Asami pulls her into a hug, nestling Korra's head under her own. Korra shudders, terrified that even that involuntary action might cause another earthquake.

"Is she hurt?" Mako steps toward them in spite of his trepidation.

Asami shakes her head. "No, but I think she's in shock."

Korra croaks, "I didn't know … I could do that …"

As if there was any doubt remaining, Bolin murmurs, quietly and conclusively, "She's the Avatar, all right." Hearing this, Korra sobs anew, and Mako glares at his brother, who is instantly abashed.

Asami strokes Korra's hair and whispers reassurance. "You saved us, Korra. We're all okay, thanks to you."

"Shouldn't we get out of here?" Bolin asks. "They could come back—"

"We can't leave," Mako says. "If the police come and see we left the scene—"

Bolin argues, "If you mean crime scene, we were almost _victims_ of a crime—"

"They could still charge Korra with property damage, vigilante justice—not to mention terrorism and sedition—"

Korra pulls away from Asami and presses a hand to her pounding head, trying to think straight. She remembers they wanted to go to the police, turn themselves and their fathers in, surrender to the benders' judgment. But now she is not just an Equalist, she is the kind of bender she has always feared and loathed, the kind Aang and his peace-loving people would hate. "I can't—I can't see them now—"

"Korra, please. Look at me." She forces herself to meet Asami's green, pleading eyes. Her friend is as earnest as ever. "Remember what we decided. If you run now, things will only get worse. This _proves_ you need to work with benders—they're the only ones who can help you control your powers."

Korra remembers that she wanted to stop hiding, to show the world who she truly is; but the opposite of hiding is exposure, opening herself to a world of judgment and danger.

"You asked us to trust you, and we do, but you need to trust us too." She looks up at Mako, who appears more intense than she has ever seen him. "I've been where you are now. The only way you'll be able to stop hiding is if you come clean. Let them know who and what you are, and accept responsibility for what you've done."

Her friends took a risk by trusting her tonight; it is only fair that she does the same for them. Besides, she won't be able to protect them if she runs away. She may not be the best one to protect them, but she can get the police to do it.

She glances between Asami and the brothers. "Will you stay with me?"

Asami smiles and squeezes her hand. "Always."

"Us too." Bolin walks up and joins their circle.

Korra inhales deeply, sniffing back mucus, trying to clear her mind and brace herself. "Okay."

Asami hugs her again, and the boys follow suit, the three of them surrounding Korra with their strength. In spite of her fear and shame, she feels, for a moment, secure in their support. She is still scared, but having them with her, believing they will continue to stand by her, is like the difference between entering a duel alone and entering with partners. After trying and failing to fight by herself, it makes all the difference in the world.

Korra is still sitting, hunched over and hugging herself, when the police arrive in trucks and on motorcycles. Asami helps her get to her feet, while Bolin and Mako stand protectively in front of them. The scattered witnesses point at them—or more specifically at Korra.

The gray-haired Chief of Police steps out of her car, scans the scene with wide eyes, and says, "What the flameo happened here?"

"We can explain," Asami says.

Mako cuts in, "We were actually on our way to see you, but Equalists tried to intercept us, and then—well—Korra here was trying to protect us—"

"It's my fault," Korra says. "I didn't know what I was doing."

Lin Beifong holds up a hand to stop them. "Hold on. You said you were _on your way_ to see us?"

"I was going to turn myself in."

"And you are?"

She braces herself. It is time to own who she is. "My name is Korra. I'm the Avatar."

Beifong's lips part slightly, bewilderment and doubt mixed in her face as she sizes Korra up. This is Toph's daughter, but Korra has grown up knowing of this woman as a rival. The only time they met in person was when Korra was arrested.

"Can you prove it?"

Bolin is almost indignant. "What, this isn't enough?"

Mako adds, "Ask around, people saw her firebending and earthbending—"

"I can prove it." Korra produces a flame in one hand, and levitates a piece of asphalt with the other.

"How long have you known?" Beifong demands.

"Almost two weeks."

"How did the Equalists find you?"

"Because … I was raised by their leader. Amon. He trained me to be one of them. When I figured out I was the Avatar, I wanted out, so he tried to stop me."

"Are _you_ an Equalist?"

"Yes. At least I was, until about a week ago. I wanted to quit."

Beifong's hard expression does not shift much as she studies Korra. The only sign of emotion she gives is a sigh before she says, "Then, Avatar or not, I have to bring you in."

Mako starts to protest, "We were just on our way—"

"Unless she can prove her actual intentions, she's still a suspect, and if you stand in the way—"

"He won't," Korra interjects, giving Mako a look. "We're not safe out here, anyway."

"I need to go with you," Asami breaks in. "My father's an Equalist, too. Hiroshi Sato, head of Future Industries."

"Monkeyfeathers," Beifong mutters. She barks an order over her shoulder. "Saikhan, radio Tenzin. He needs to hear about this."

Tenzin. Korra might meet him soon, and she does not know how to feel about that. What will he think of her?

She lets the police handcuff her without protest or resistance. That is not nearly as frightening as being pulled away from her friends, losing contact with Asami's hand. She sits down on the bench inside the police truck, and she sees her friends looking back at her, their looks turning from concerned to pitying, before the door closes. "We'll see you in a little while," Asami calls after her. "Okay?"

The truck's engine almost drowns out Korra's response: "Okay."

* * *

Amon forces himself to listen patiently to the reports from the agents who managed to escape. They are raving, dumbfounded at having fought the Avatar and lived to tell about it. He responds as if he had no prior knowledge—until the word comes through that the police have arrived and taken the Avatar and her accomplices into custody. Then Amon excuses himself, says he will be in his office later that night, and turns off the communication devices.

He feels the same thing he felt earlier, and this time he does not fight it. He cries for what has been lost on this night. He is not the only one losing something, or someone. Hiroshi has lost his daughter too, and who knows whether either of them will be able to repair their relationships? He has lost his greatest secret, his most valuable ally, and his only companion. And Korra—she has forfeited everything he gave her, throughout the thirteen years they lived together.

Amon indulges himself only a few minutes, then calms himself and thinks over what this will mean for him and his followers.

He will not see Korra tonight, not even in a cell. He may not see her for quite some time, depending on whether they can get her away from the city's law enforcement.

Now no one will doubt that Korra is the Avatar, and the archaic local and national leaders will believe everything she says based on that legacy alone.

If the Equalists manage to recover her, they will have to contain her so that she cannot bend. That will be quite inconvenient for them, not to mention uncomfortable and degrading for Korra, chaining her so she cannot move a limb.

"Oh, Korra." Amon knows he should be angry, and some part of him is, but more than that, he pities her for making this decision and going on to make such a terrible blunder in public. He does not envy the situation she has put herself in. She will be surrounded by people who want to use her for their own political gain, and he will not be there to guide her. He wonders if she will miss him at all. Is it vain, or strategical, for him to hope that she might?

He will not give up on her, for the sake of their bond. He _must_ not give up on her, for the sake of the revolution. He can still salvage something profitable from this situation, as complex as it has become.

This fight—or whatever it may be—is not over.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Music: "Stand By Me" composed by Ben E. King, Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller.

Artwork: "Alone" by myth12 on DeviantArt

These fight scenes were pretty grueling to figure out. Let me know what you think of them in this version.

I thought about having Korra run away after her first Avatar State experience, which would seem in-character because she tends to push people away when she is scared or conflicted. I abandoned that idea because it seemed kind of cliché, considering Queen Elsa, Emma Swan, and Bruce Banner (The Hulk) all do that when they think their powers are endangering their loved ones. So Korra is taking the much more frightening path, staying with her friends and subjecting herself to judgment.

If you're interested in my story consumption and production outside of ATLA/LOK … I got sucked into the _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ fandom, and so have been writing a lot about that. I specialize in the Holt family's dynamics, and my favorite romantic ship is Shallura.


	17. Farewell, Good Angel

_Published January 16, 2017. Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day!_

"Farewell, Good Angel"

* * *

"You better tell us what you did hear your uncle say that evening," said John Faa. "Don't leave anything out, mind. Tell us everything."

Lyra did, more slowly than she'd told the Costas but more honestly, too. She was afraid of John Faa, and what she was most afraid of was his kindness.

~ Philip Pullman, _The Golden Compass_

* * *

Tenzin's study is one of the more quiet places on Air Temple Island—except when the telephone rings. That almost defeats the purpose of working at home instead of City Hall. Tenzin likes to be able to focus away from the bustle of the city proper.

On the first ring, he sighs; on the second he picks up the telephone. "Councilman Tenzin speaking."

A voice bubbling with excitement answers. "Master Tenzin! This is Abbot Shung at the Southern Air Temple. Something—something _extraordinary_ has happened."

"Is everything alright?" Tenzin asks apprehensively.

"More than alright, sir! It's the Hall of Statues. The eyes of every statue glowed."

Tenzin is so shocked he barely hears Shung explaining their system of watching the statues constantly, in shifts. Their glowing eyes are a sign Tenzin instructed them to watch for, and Abbot Shung took the task more seriously than many other acolytes, but so many years passed fruitlessly that even though Tenzin had not given up hope, to find it finally fulfilled …

He finally gets ahold of himself and asks desperately, "When did this happen?"

"Less than ten minutes ago!"

"And … how long were the statues …"

There is a murmur of conference at the other end before Shung answers, "They glowed for about two minutes."

"Thank you for telling me," Tenzin says. "I think … I need to make some calls." He almost hangs up, but then adds quickly, "If it happens again, send word _immediately_."

"Will do, sir!"

Tenzin hangs up, and leans heavily on his desk, trying to think clearly.

The previous Avatar statues glowing means the Avatar entered the Avatar State. That does not bring them any closer to locating the Avatar, but it confirms that he or she is alive, and old enough to have unlocked his or her powers, probably triggered by either danger or emotion.

His gaze rises involuntarily to the portrait of his father hanging on the wall. He smiles at the familiar face, feeling happy and rueful at the same time. "I guess this means … Mom was right again. I hope." She had always believed the Avatar would return with each new incarnation.

Then again, though, the first time Aang went into the Avatar State was when he froze himself in ice, and that resulted in his being hidden for a century. What if something similar has happened now? Or worse—what if the Avatar was harmed while in the Avatar State? There would be no signs of reincarnation because the cycle would have ended …

Hope and anxiety have battled in Tenzin's heart for years, but now both are intensified. He presses his folded hands against his forehead. He has to be rational about this.

His first thought is that the White Lotus ought to know, but before he picks up the telephone, it rings again.

He answers with more than a little trepidation. "Councilman Tenzin speaking."

"Master Tenzin, this is the High Fire Sage, calling from Caldera. The sign we have been waiting for finally appeared."

"I just heard similar news from the Southern Air Temple—"

Just then an Air Acolyte pokes his head into the office. "Sir, there's a radio call from a temple in the Earth Kingdom."

Tenzin covers the mouthpiece and barks, "If it's about the Avatar, tell them I'm aware! Other Air Acolytes and Fire Sages have seen it too."

The young man looks awed. "Has the Avatar returned, sir?"

"I don't know yet. Take a message while I finish this call."

The Sage reports the same kind of sign, only on a lesser scale. The Air Nomads had the most extensive collection of Avatar memorials, but every nation has at least one. The moment he hangs up, the phone rings again.

The acolyte managing the radio returns. "Sir, there's a message from—"

"Let me guess, the other Water Tribe?"

"No, sir, from Chief Beifong."

"What?" Tenzin knows better than to think it could be a social call, which is the last thing he needs at this moment. No, Lin would only contact him if she had no other option. Still, the timing is odd. Could she know something about this? He follows the Acolyte to the radio a few rooms away and accepts the microphone. "Lin?"

"This is her deputy, Saikhan. She wants you to know we arrested a young woman who claims she's the Avatar."

Tenzin almost drops the microphone, and grips the table to steady himself. "What?" For the Avatar to be alive and active is one thing. For her to be in his own city is quite another. "Where? When? How?"

"The downtown district, less than half an hour ago. We got several calls about a street fight between a few benders and several Equalists …"

_Equalists_. Fear douses Tenzin's incredulous hope like a splash of cold water.

"… she fought or scared them off, but she ripped up the street and caused a lot of fire and water damage."

"Was it the Avatar State?" That would explain the glowing statues.

"That's what we think."

"Where is she now?"

"At the station."

"Tell Lin I'm on my way—and for goodness' sake, keep the Avatar safe."

He runs through the halls, an act that he usually scolds his children for doing. He considers simply using his glider, but after a moment's deliberation decides to take Oogi—just in case he has more companions on the way home.

* * *

Amon knew he might someday have to go into hiding, but he always hoped that he would move up to a nicer living situation—something Korra would enjoy. Now her opinion does not matter, he thinks bitterly, as he goes through his few significant belongings. If Korra reveals their address and describes his physical appearance, it will be only a matter of time before they initiate a search for him, starting at the apartment. He must disappear before they arrive, and he cannot leave anything pertinent for them to find.

He really should have made a habit of moving every few years, he reflects. He was selfish to stay in one place for so long. He wanted to maintain a sense of stability and permanence, something he had lacked for many years, something he should have known better than to hope for.

He does not have much to pack for himself: spare clothes, money, identification documents, a few odd weapons, various Equalist memorabilia, a few mementos he saved over the years. He knows where his own belongings are. But Korra's room is a different situation. He will have to search it quickly before leaving, just to make sure they don't find any leads.

He has the bomb in his safe … that would serve a double purpose, destroying evidence and sending a message. He could pull the fire alarm and have people evacuate the building before detonating it. That might be enough to scare Korra, so much that she will not want to take further action. But then again, it might reinforce her belief that he is in the wrong, that she must fight him. He must stay on the moral high ground as much possible.

He remembers the night he found her, how he ransacked her family's igloo, took everything that bore evidence of her existence, hid it all in the motorboat, and gave orders to have it destroyed. This is much the same, but more difficult, because all these items stir _his_ memories.

He goes over to the jewelry box he got her years ago, and finds it filled with odds and ends from her childhood: rocks and acorns from the park, sea glass and shells from the beach, bits of trash found in the street, some handcrafted items. Memories come back as Amon lifts up the origami they made together, creased in the wrong places from all Korra's failed attempts at folding it correctly.

The only real piece of jewelry is a necklace, with a choker he made and a pendant he bought—his gift to Korra on her thirteenth birthday. He is grateful she didn't throw it out. He tucks it into a pocket that buttons closed inside his coat.

He runs his hand over the bedspread where he comforted a toddler from her nightmares, resigning himself to the fact that such happy, innocent period is over. He takes a last long look at the room, and finally turns his back on it all.

* * *

Korra recognizes parts of the police headquarters' interior, but the cops also lead her through rooms that she has not seen before. When they book her, they find her rap sheet, which informs them of the one other time she was arrested. That was the night Amon told her about the Equalist movement. How strangely fitting that she both began and ended her career as an Equalist by being arrested.

She thought it might be easier to tell her story after finally revealing her secrets to her friends, since she is no longer pressed for time. But it is actually more difficult, because now she has to go into the details of what she has done over the past three years, and even deeper into her relationship with Amon. Beifong and Saikhan record her testimony on a blank record and also take detailed notes on paper.

She starts with the most relevant and time-sensitive facts she can think of. She remembers to warn them about the bomb she saw in their apartment. Beifong directs a cop to call the porter and evacuate the building before they investigate there. Korra knows Amon will be gone by the time they arrive, probably underground, both figuratively and literally. She tells them about the tunnels under the city, and they produce a map for her to point out all the entrances she knows of.

When they ask about her criminal activity, Korra tells them about the recruitment, training, missions, and rallies. She confesses to charges of kidnapping, conspiracy, and aiding and abetting criminals, but shows contention when they use the word _treason_. "I'm from the Water Tribe. Technically, I'm not a United Republic citizen. I couldn't really betray the country if it was never mine to begin with, right?"

"We're still waiting for someone who can verify your identity," Saikhan informs her.

"Even if you are who you say you are," Beifong gripes, "that technicality does not change your intent or the consequences of your actions. If you thought you were a legal citizen, and conspired against the city anyway. That makes you a traitor."

It's ironic, really. Korra feels herself sinking down to a new level of betrayal by revealing what she knows about Amon, the Equalists, and the revolution. She could still do worse, though. The final, lowest blow would be to fight directly against them—not defensively, as she did tonight, but offensively, to stop their actions and put an end to their activities. There have been times over the past few weeks when she truly wanted to do just that, but after what just happened she is less certain.

"What can you tell us about Amon's criminal activity?"

"You know about his ability? How he takes people's bending?"

"We've heard. Not everyone believes it."

"It's true. I've seen it. And I'm pretty sure he killed people after using them as test subjects." She tells them everything she knows, as well as everything she suspects. Saikhan tries to draw out descriptions of the Equalist network and how it operates. Then Beifong asks for details about Korra's relationship with Amon.

"In general, did you get along?"

A lump threatens to rise in Korra's throat again. She forces it down and says, "Yeah. We did."

"Did he ever physically hurt you?"

Korra thinks hard and chooses her words carefully. "We had one physical fight, when I confronted him with what I found out … I don't know who started it, but we were both hitting each other. But he was never abusive … in fact, when we met people who had been in abusive situations, he used to say … he used to tell me I was lucky that I ended up with him instead of someone who'd hurt me." As she says it, she comes to a new understanding. "I think he wanted me to feel like I owed him."

Beifong asks the questions the others are too afraid or embarrassed to ask. "Did he ever molest you?"

Korra bristles at the woman's bluntness. "No."

"Did he ever rape you?"

"No!"

"Sorry, but legally I had to ask."

In spite of everything, Korra still instinctively wants to defend her father figure, and resents them for assuming the worst. They don't know what kind of person he is. But then again, she reminds herself, neither does she.

They ask how she learned the truth about where she came from, so she tells them about her dreams (they are clearly skeptical about this point), her investigation at the library. This leads into an explanation of the events that led to this moment: her house arrest, the attack on the Arena, and the car chase. "They were waiting and watching us, and when they figured out we'd beaten the kidnappers and were going to betray them, they sent another team to stop us."

"It's that '_going to_' that I don't trust," Beifong breaks in.

"What do you mean?" Saikhan asks.

"Isn't this a little too convenient? There's a real chance she could be acting on Amon's orders."

"What? No!" Korra feels her frustration renewed. "He wouldn't want me bending in the street like that."

"Not even if it reinforced hatred of benders?"

Korra blinks, and then wonders if that might have been the case after all. Did Amon or the chi-blockers want to force a reaction out of her?

Another officer comes into the room. "Chief, Councilman Tenzin is here."

Korra feels a spasm inside, but cannot tell if it is a good or bad emotion; she only knows that this is a significant development. Beifong pauses a beat, not looking particularly happy about the news, then says, "Fine. Stay here while I speak with him." The deputy stands aside as she leaves.

* * *

Lin finds Tenzin being held up by the two boys who insisted on being brought to the station. Of course they finished their testimony more quickly than the Avatar. Tenzin looks over their heads at her. "Lin! There you are."

The boys turn and immediately accost her next. "Chief Beifong—"

She points to the nearest bench. "You two sit down and wait. We have enough to sort out without your hovering."

"How much longer is this going to take?"

"As long as it has to." She gestures for Tenzin to follow her down the hall.

"Thank you for notifying me," Tenzin says.

Lin grunts. "Don't take it personally. I promised your parents I would, if the time came."

"What I don't understand," he says, his brow furrowing, "is what they were asking me to sort out. What did the Avatar do that warranted an arrest?"

"Saikhan didn't fill you in?"

Tenzin looks slightly sheepish. "He just said you'd found her … so I said I'd come right away."

Lin huffs in annoyance. "We _got called_ because Equalists were in the streets and three benders were tearing up a neighborhood, one of them with multiple elements. We _arrested her_ because she confessed to being an Equalist."

Tenzin stops walking. "Say again?"

Lin turns and looks directly at him for the first time. "If her story is true, Amon is the one who took her from her home. He brought her here, to Republic City. She was practically raised to be a terrorist." She stops when she sees how shocked Tenzin is. "Do you need to sit?"

"I'm—I'm fine." He runs a hand over his bald head, one arrow tattoo almost meeting the other. "This just … well, changes things."

"No kidding."

"Was she … did she know who and what she is?"

"If what she says is true, she didn't know about the kidnapping or being the Avatar until a couple weeks ago."

They pass through the observation room looking in on Asami Sato's interrogation. "That's Hiroshi Sato's daughter," Lin informs Tenzin. "She's a nonbender, but says she opposes the Equalists. Apparently she's the Avatar's closest friend. They both claim her father is also an Equalist conspirator."

"Hiroshi Sato an Equalist?" This surprises Tenzin, though it is arguably easier to swallow than the previous revelation.

"He does have the means, and a motive," Lin reminds him.

"That's true." They both remember the tragedy, one of the most publicized crimes committed during Lin's tenure as Chief of Police. It caused a great deal of stress for her and the force when it took place.

"We don't have any substantial charges against the boys, and at any rate they couldn't be Equalists. But the Sato girl's still suspect, if you ask me. They say her father has been financing and manufacturing their technology. We'll have to investigate her home, but that could be a setup to trap my officers."

Lin finally leads Tenzin into the observation room that offers a one-way view of Korra's interrogation chamber. Tenzin stops short at the door, then comes up close to the glass. "Is this … her?"

"Yeah." Beifong follows his gaze. "She says she's Tonraq and Senna's kid." She looks at Tenzin. "You've met them before. What do you think?"

Tenzin nods, still studying the girl. "I believe it. I can see the resemblance. She's Senna's spitting image."

"Hm. That closes one missing person case."

"Who knows she's here?"

"Everyone who saw her in the street, and anyone who's spread the news by word of mouth."

"We need to notify the rest of the council, sooner rather than later—before the press gets wind of all this. I expect the Water Tribe representatives will want to see her, and pass the news on to their chief—he's her uncle, and helped lead the international search for her. If I could wire Kya, she can tell Korra's parents that she's here."

"How'll they take the news that she's an Equalist?"

"I don't know." Tenzin pauses. "If she's an Equalist, how did she end up fighting them tonight?"

"She says they went after her because she was going to turn herself in. That's the part I doubt most. She could be setting us up, planting herself as a spy—"

"Oh, really, Lin—"

"Don't _oh really_ me. If this proves anything, it's that even an Avatar can turn bad."

"She's just a girl—"

"And your father was just a boy when he fought the Fire Lord. You can't underestimate an Avatar."

"All right, point taken." But Tenzin looks closely at her and asks, "What's really bothering you?" He knows her too well.

Lin is silent for a moment, turning away to stare through the glass. Then she answers flatly: "That girl had a record before tonight. A few years ago, we brought her in with a group of protesters who resisted arrest." Lin raises a hand to her face, pressing the bridge of her nose. "I just can't believe that the Avatar was here and I didn't realize it."

Tenzin puts a hand on her shoulder, startling her somewhat. "No one expected a situation like this. Amon played us all … including her. Now all we can do is make the best of the situation."

She looks at him, and for the first time that evening, her expression conveys some of the emotions she is experiencing, among them stress, discouragement, and a strange, uncharacteristic helplessness. "How do do you suggest we start?"

He removes his hand and nods toward the door. "Will you let me speak with her?"

"I'm not going to stop you."

* * *

Tenzin enters the interrogation chamber with Beifong on his heels. She dismisses Saikhan, leaving a chair free for Tenzin.

Korra stares at him, recognizing both the young man from Aang's memory and the Councilman from the newspapers. A minute ago, she was apprehensive because she did not know who she could trust. She feels she can trust this man, but as he looks at her, a different kind of apprehension seizes her, the self-conscious kind. She is keenly aware that she is being scrutinized, but she feels almost as awed and hesitant as Tenzin.

He steps closer to the table. "Avatar Korra?" He looks at her with soft eyes, solemn but kind. "My name is Tenzin."

Something in Korra's heart hurts, because she remembers feeling the connection they had in Aang's lifetime, but does not feel it now that she, Korra, is finally with him. She wanted to meet him, but this way of meeting is all wrong. "Tenzin." Her voice comes out sounding hoarse, so she swallows and tries to start over. "I'm sorry …"

"It's alright," he says, which they all know is nonsense. His automatic assurance is that of a father, someone used to giving comfort. "I'm here to help you."

She grimaces. "I really made a mess of things, huh?"

He sits down across from her. "I know these aren't desirable circumstances, but even so, it's good to finally meet you."

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you … you know, in this lifetime. I, um …"

"Yes?"

Korra hesitates, knowing how dubious Beifong is, but then decides to go ahead and tell them. "I saw some of your dad's memories. One was about you, the day you got your tattoos." She turns to look at Beifong, who stares with incredulity. "You and your family were there too." She looks back at Tenzin, who seems amazed but not disbelieving. "He was so proud of you. And he said he hoped that when the next generation of airbenders got their tattoos, there would be more of them to move the chimes and incense." Tenzin and Lin both stare at her. Korra returns their gaze, waiting, willing them to believe and accept her. "I want that too. I thought the Equalists had the right idea, but I don't want to end all bending."

Tenzin looks at her, and then says simply, "I believe you." The corners of Korra's mouth turn upwards, as she feels hopeful for the first time tonight.

Beifong turns toward the door. "We're still watching," she reminds them as she leaves the room.

"She doesn't like me," Korra says. "But I guess I can't blame her, after everything I did."

"I think there may be more to it than that," Tenzin says. "But in any case … you're not the first Avatar to make such mistakes."

"Really? Well, that's a comfort," she says sarcastically.

Tenzin looks at her a moment longer before asking, "When you were fleeing the Equalists tonight, did you use bending against them?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, but with her hands chained to the table it does not make much of a difference. "Yeah."

"And was all of it the result of conscious effort?"

"… No."

Tenzin senses her reluctance. "I know you've been through a difficult experience, but I need to know, and I might be able to help you tap into that power without losing control of it."

Korra bites her lip, not wanting to think about it. "We were surrounded … I didn't want to face Amon, and I couldn't let him get to my friends. I just … I was so scared, and angry too, and … I don't know if I was desperate or determined, maybe both, and somehow … it was like moving in a dream, I knew what to do but I don't know how I did it. Somehow I ended up blasting the street and a bunch of chi-blockers. When I woke up they were gone. I don't know if they've been found, or whether they were hurt or …" Her lip trembles, and she bites down on it, not wanting to cry again tonight.

"If they were, it wasn't your fault." When Korra looks up at him again, his expression is solemn but understanding. "You're not the first Avatar to experience difficulty controlling the Avatar State."

That phrase rings a bell in Korra's memory. She remembers her first dreams about Aang and Yakone's infamous fight. "So what happened to me has a name?"

"Yes. It's a defense mechanism that channels the power of all your past lives through your body."

"So … since there have been about a thousand Avatars, that was like having a thousand bending masters working in sync?"

Tenzin pauses. "Well, I don't think that power is accumulative … but something like that."

"Great." Korra laughs, bark-like and humorless. "I'm a one-woman army—no wonder Amon wanted me on his side."

"This _can_ be a lesson for you, to be wary of your power. But you mustn't be discouraged. You will learn to control it, just as your past lives did. And once that happens, how you use your power will be entirely up to you."

Beifong comes back then, and joins them at the table, with a new question for Korra. "Is Amon likely to be searching for you?"

Korra considers this. Tonight Amon wanted her captured so she could not reveal Equalist secrets, but she has already done that, so his priorities will be different from now on. "He might try to capture me if he thinks I'm going to fight the Equalists. I don't know if he'd still want … parental custody at this point. Even if he does, I don't think he'll want me back on his side, after what I've done."

A moment passes in silence. Then Tenzin asks her, "Do you have any questions for us?"

This is different, and welcome, as Korra remembers one key topic she has wondered about lately. "My parents."

The mood at the table immediately becomes somber. Korra fumbles on, "I know their names, and some of my father's history, but I don't know anything about them now. Do you … are they …"

"They're alive and well," Tenzin assures her.

Korra smiles in relief and hope. "Do you know them?"

"We've met a few times. They're close to my mother and sister." But Tenzin looks uneasy as he says this. "However, there is something you should know. I'm just not sure how you'll take it …"

"What?"

"You were your parents' first child … but not their only one. You have a younger brother and sister."

Korra looks at him with a silence and blankness that increases the adults' apprehension. "Huh." She bows her head slightly, and then trembles. "Wow. Okay." Korra looks at her hands, still chained to the table. She tries to picture a family of four—or five, if she can squeeze herself into the imaginary frame. A man, woman, boy, and girl who look similar to her. "What—what are their names? Their ages?"

Tenzin strokes his beard absently as he tries to remember. "Your brother's name is Damasak. He was born a year after my first child—he would be nine by now. Your sister is Hanami; I think she is six."

"Wow," Korra says again.

"Does this news upset you?"

Korra finds that question incredibly hilarious. So many things have upset her lately, but this, bizarre though it is, is not one of them! She surprises them by smiling, and makes noises that could be either sobs or giggles. "Are you kidding? That's the first piece of _good_ news I've heard in weeks!" She bends over her hands, laughing and crying at the same time.

Tenzin and Lin Beifong exchange glances, as though worried about her state of mind.

"I'm sorry," she mutters after a few minutes, turning her head against her hands to wipe her eyes dry. "It's been a weird day. Weird couple of weeks, actually."

"I promised we would notify them if and when you were found," Tenzin says. "When we do contact them, Korra, would you want to send them a message? Arrange to meet them?"

"I …" Her first instinct is to say _of course_, but when she thinks about it, she becomes less certain. "I don't know. Someday, sure, but now …"

"Well, you don't need to decide right away," he says, his eyes crinkling with sympathy. "Spirits know, you have enough going on already."

* * *

Lin brings Tenzin to a small conference room and gives him the minutes of Korra's testimony, so he can understand the full extent of her crimes. He is grave as he skims them, yet he seems stubbornly committed, as though he has already made a decision and resolved to see it through to the end.

"Tenzin, we can't afford to be sentimental about this."

"This isn't about sentiment," he insists, "this is about—duty. Maybe honor and legacy too; but those all stem from responsibility. She has the same responsibility for the world that my father carried, and _we_ are responsible for helping her shoulder that burden. Can we not agree on that?"

Lin nods curtly.

Tenzin pushes the pages of minutes forward on the table. "That being said, with everything that's happening, I think criminal activity in her past is the wrong thing to focus on."

"If we drop the charges just because she's the Avatar, people might use that as an example of bender favoritism," Lin points out.

"I suppose. And we can't very well let her leave unprotected. But if she stays in police custody, I don't think she should go to the prison. That's the first place Amon would look for her, either to free her or to keep her from giving information."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"I suppose some kind of house arrest. Outside of the city would probably be safest, but I'd be more than happy to let her stay on Air Temple Island."

"You? With a new kid and the Council keeping you in the city most of the time?"

"We're the closest thing to family she has around here. She needs stability."

"The White Lotus can get here within a day. If you could lend some officers until then—"

"Fine. I'll ask Tarrlok to do the same."

* * *

Korra has completely lost track of time by now, there being no clock in the interrogation room. She thinks it has been fifteen or twenty minutes since Tenzin and Beifong left her with some other officers. How many hours have passed since Asami picked her up?

Finally, Aang's son and Toph's daughter return. Korra wastes no time asking, "So what are you going to do with me?"

"We're not entirely sure," Tenzin says carefully. "We've agreed that you should stay in protective custody."

"To protect me, or protect people from me?"

"Probably both," Beifong says.

"But," Tenzin goes on, "the exact location is debatable. The most secure places in Republic City are the police station and the city prison, but—"

"The Equalists know those places inside and out," Korra says. "They've got schematics. They'd probably try to bust me out."

"Well, I'd like to offer an alternative. If you wish, you can stay on Air Temple Island with my family and me."

Korra perks up at this idea. She has never been to the island, but it has always looked beautiful from a distance, and the Air Nomads are supposed to be peaceful. It might be a good place to hide out for a while, and Tenzin would be there to help her figure out this mess. "What about my friends? The Equalists will be looking for Asami too, and the boys can't go back to their apartment."

"We'll leave it up to them. Lin, if you don't mind?"

Beifong purses her lips, and reluctantly flicks her wrist. The handcuffs snap open, allowing Korra to stand. Tenzin gestures for her to follow him out of the room.

Korra glances over her shoulder at the Chief of Police. Both of them remember the rude, mistrustful gestures they made to each other the last time they parted ways in this place. But now Korra offers an olive branch: "Thank you … Chief Beifong."

Beifong's lips part slightly, surprise evident in her expression. Korra turns and follows Tenzin out into the hallway.

They find her friends lounging on a bench. Bolin is sitting with one leg hugged against his chest, a morose expression of worry on his downcast face. Asami is lying on the bench with her head in Mako's lap. For a moment Korra feels ashamed for forgetting about her: this severing of ties with the Equalists is painful and exhausting for her too. But at least she has good company, Korra thinks, spotting Mako's comforting hand stroking her hair.

Her friends straighten and stand when they see her. "You okay?" Bolin asks, beating the others to the question.

Korra starts to nod automatically, but then thinks better of it, and shakes her head truthfully. Now that she has chosen to tell the truth, she ought to try to make it a habit.

Bolin gives her a one-armed hug. "You'll feel better soon," he says, the image of upbeat confidence.

Tenzin clears his throat, drawing the teenagers' attention to him. "I'd like to invite all four of you to stay at Air Temple Island. With everything that is happening on the mainland, it may be the safest place."

The boys look amazed, but Asami smiles, her entire countenance brightening. "That would be wonderful," she says graciously. "Thank you."

"I came here on my sky bison, but if you'd rather take the ferry we could arrange an escort—"

The idea of going from the station to the docks, surrounded by police and heckled by spectators, is enough to banish any nervousness Korra may have felt about flying. She glances at her friends. "I'm up for the bison, if you guys are."

A response of "Okay" from Asami, "Cool" from Mako, and "All right!" from Bolin settles the matter.

Tenzin leads the four of them and two officers up a staircase to the roof, where his bison is waiting. A stepladder is there to help them climb up, but Tenzin leaps up onto the creature's neck—using airbending, the teenagers realize belatedly.

"Please don't lean over the side," Tenzin requests. "In fact, try not to let anyone below see you." He flicks the reins. "Oogi, yip-yip!"

The first-time flyers grab the closest thing they can find—parts of the saddle, another's hand or arm—as the bison leaps up. The closest thing they can compare it to is the rush of a racecar at the Sato track—it is not as fast, but the change in altitude makes the air seem to rush past them in a similar way. Mere seconds later, once they are high above the police station and other buildings, Oogi stops ascending and seems to fly in a straight line.

The four friends look at each other. Korra realizes that she grabbed Mako's arm, while Bolin grabbed hers. They quickly release each other, laughing nervously, smiling apologetically. Then they look at the city below them.

"Whoa."

They have all seen beautiful views of the city, looking down from different vantage points, but this view is panoramic, unobstructed: the city is completely spread out around and below them. Korra remembers her fantasies and dream-memories about using airbending to fly. She glances at Tenzin, wondering if he can teach her how to do that.

"I came to Air Temple Island once, on a field trip with my class," Asami says. "You guys will like it. It's a nice community."

Tenzin directs Oogi to land in a courtyard between a roofed walkway and a pond. Korra wonders if the water feature was made so Aang's wife and daughter could use it for waterbending. As Tenzin helps them get down from the saddle, a few Air Acolytes approach them, coming from different directions.

A woman with her hair pulled back in a low bun comes right up to Tenzin. "Is everything okay?" she asks.

"We're fine," Tenzin says, taking her hand and looking to the four teenagers. "This is my wife, Pema." He turns to the other Acolytes and says, "We need to have a community meeting. Can you help get everyone together?"

"Of course." Pema gives then a small smile, and then she and the other Acolytes scatter to different areas.

Tenzin leads the teenagers inside while the two metalbenders stand watch at the entrance. Despite knowing that Aang lived here periodically, Korra does not feel any sense of familiarity in these surroundings—until they arrive at the spacious room that Tenzin says is the meeting place: it is the same sanctuary in which Aang anointed Tenzin as an airbending master. Tenzin notices her gaping, and seems to understand the reason.

It only takes about fifteen minutes for the entire community, between two and three dozen Air Nomads, to assemble.

Among the last are three children dressed in matching yellow and orange uniforms, who run up excitedly to the front of the sanctuary. Korra recognizes the tallest as the one who came to the library so many weeks ago. "Dad! Did you find the Avatar?"

"Yes, I did." Tenzin turns to Korra and gestures to each of the kids. "These are my children: Jinora, Ikki, and Meelo. Kids, this is Damasak and Hanami's sister, Korra, and her friends Asami, Mako, and Bolin, "

Jinora is startled when she recognizes Korra. "It's you," she says. "From the library."

Korra smiles, glad to see this familiar face. "That's right. I remember that day. You were the first airbender I met."

Jinora looks delighted. "I knew I felt a bond with you!"

"Are you really the Avatar?" the younger girl, Ikki, demands.

"Yeah."

"Our Grandpa Aang was the Avatar. Does that mean you're our grandma?"

Bolin and Mako snort as they try not to laugh. Jinora gives her sister a withering look. "_Gran-Gran_ is our grandma on Dad's side, Ikki."

Feeling playful, Korra puts a hand on her hip. "Do I look old enough to be a grandma?"

Ikki looks her over, seemingly deep in thought, before quickly justifying her theory. "Well, Grandpa Aang didn't look old enough to be a hundred and twelve when he came out the iceberg."

More than a few people laugh. "Okay, fair enough," Korra says. "I guess I am your spiritual grandparent."

Tenzin counts heads until he is certain everyone who should be present has arrived. Then he goes to the front of the room, and a respectful silence falls, the last arrivals sitting down on the floor.

"Thank you all for coming at such short notice," Tenzin says loudly. "As you can see, we have some visitors."

"Is one of them the Avatar?" a male Acolyte asks, apprehending the strangers.

The four friends exchange uneasy glances until Korra raises her hand sheepishly. "That's me."

Tenzin puts a hand on her shoulder and addresses the assembly. "I'm very pleased to introduce Korra, daughter of Tonraq and Senna of the Southern Water Tribe."

The Acolytes exclaim joyfully and break into applause, a reaction that embarrasses Korra as much as it touches her. Her friends grin at her as if to say, _See? They like you_.

Tenzin raises a tattooed hand to silence the small crowd. When everyone quiets down, he explains the situation. "Avatar Korra and her companions will be our guests for the time being, and we would like to keep their whereabouts secret. Starting now, security measures on and around the Island will increase. Chief Beifong has agreed to lend her own officers until the White Lotus arrive. All communication and transportation to and from the island will be monitored."

It occurs to Korra that she has left one house arrest to begin another, and is now imposing the same condition on her friends and, to an extent, this community.

As the crowd disperses, she goes up to Tenzin and asks quietly, "Tenzin? Am I endangering people by being here?"

He does not answer right away, and that tells her enough. But after a moment he says, "I don't think we're in any more danger than we were before, considering who we are." He has a point. He and his family may be the only airbenders, but everyone in this community is dedicated to sustaining Aang's legacy, and they know airbending to be a crucial part of it.

Ikki comes up and tugs on Korra's hand."Do you want to see our baby brother?"

Korra remembers reading about the new Air Nomad's birth, just days ago. "Uh …"

"Sure," Asami answers. Ikki takes her hand too and pulls the girls toward Pema, who is now holding a small bundle in her arms. Mako, Bolin, Jinora, and Meelo follow them.

Korra cannot remember the last time she saw a baby—probably in a public place—and she does not think she has ever seen a newborn. Rohan must be the smallest person she has ever seen.

"Aww," Bolin coos, "he's so cute!"

Ikki stands on her tiptoes to address her youngest brother. "Hi, Rohan! Look who's here!" She pulls Korra over and says, "This is Korra! She's our grandpa's reincarnation."

Rohan's eyes fall on her, and then widen to look fully. He opens his little mouth, and dimples form in his cheeks as the corners of his lips turn upward.

"Aw, he likes you, Korra!" Bolin says, squeezing her arm.

"I wonder if he can tell you're connected," Jinora says thoughtfully.

"Do you want to hold him?" Pema offers.

Korra is taken aback by the casual, welcoming, familiar suggestion. She shakes her head, remembering how much damage her hands caused a few hours ago. She does not trust them to hold something—some_one—_so fragile.

"May I?" Asami asks. Pema nods, and explains how to support him before handing her son to her guest. Asami holds him and gently bounces his weight back and forth. Rohan still seems quite alert, his eyes darting from one person to the next. It seems to Korra that he keeps looking back at her.

Tenzin comes up to their circle and looks between Korra and Rohan, his gray-blue eyes tender but somehow sad. "We can't tell, yet, whether he's an airbender, but my mother thinks it's likely."

The discomfiting fear Korra felt when she met Jinora and Skoochy intensifies, multiplies, concentrates in her heart. It does not matter that she barely knows these people. It does not even matter that they are her previous life's family. She only knows that what Amon wants to do to them—this father, these children, this infant—is _wrong_.

Hitting on this truth, Korra starts to feel once more the conviction that made her stand up to Amon, first for her parents, and again for her friends. She may not be able to protect all benders, but she can—she must—she _will _protect as many as possible. Her first friends and the last airbenders are a good start.

A sound like a small gong pierces the peaceful atmosphere. The newcomers are startled. "Is that an alarm?" Mako asks.

"No, it's the dinner bell," Tenzin says calmly.

"Can they eat with us?" Ikki asks eagerly.

"Of course," Pema says, "if they'd like to."

"Yes, very much." Asami hands Rohan back to Pema.

"Come," Tenzin says, and they follow him out of the assembly room.

As they pass through a roofed walkway linking the buildings, Korra notices police motorboats coming and going from the island's dock, dropping off metalbender cops and task force waterbenders. She knows she should be glad for their presence, but the fact that such precautions are necessary adds weight to her already heavy heart.

There is a dining hall with about a dozen tables where most of the Acolytes eat, but the Air Nomad family has a private room with a larger table already laden with food. A cook brings more plates and utensils until everyone has a place setting.

As soon as they are seated, Bolin makes an eager noise and picks up a bun, but Tenzin says, "Just a moment." Bolin drops it and draws his hand back. The Air Nomads all fold their hands and bow their heads, so the teenagers follow suit.

Tenzin speaks in a practiced yet sincere tone: "We are grateful for this delicious food, for our safety, for companionship, and for the presence of these brave young people." Korra does not know whether she feels grateful or ashamed, or both at once. Her friends are certainly brave, but she suspects the words are more for her, and she feels least worthy of them.

Tenzin continues: "We are grateful for happiness, compassion, and peace. We are grateful for our hope for the future, and our guidance from the past."

"Amen." The family says it in unison, and the guests echo it belatedly. Korra cannot remember every hearing someone pray before eating; Noatak never did, and she doubts whether her friends grew up with the practice. It seems quaint—old-fashioned but endearing.

The food, though devoid of any meat, is quite good, and for a little while they talk about how it is grown and cooked, and how their kitchens differ. A few minutes pass before the teenagers notice Pema nursing Rohan as she eats her meal. Korra catches her friends' eyes, and their reactions seem similar to her own, surprised that she can be so casual and comfortable with them, complete strangers who might be dangerous. No one else comments on it, though, so it must be typical for Pema and her family. They try to avoid staring on the one hand and averting their gazes on the other hand.

The airbender kids alleviate any potential awkwardness, and distract everyone from the gravity of the day's events. They are full of questions for the newcomers, some of them quite forward: Meelo requests some of Asami's hair, Ikki inquires which of the teenage friends are dating ("Ikki," Pema scolds, "it's not polite to ask such personal questions,"), and Jinora asks Korra if she has met or seen any memories of her past lives. Contributing to the conversation is both relaxing and exhilarating.

Finally she makes a comment about being tired, and Tenzin agrees that they should rest. Pema leads the children to their rooms, and the teenagers bid each other goodnight before going to their respective dormitories. They exchange hugs again, and Mako kisses Asami's cheek.

"I want you both to know," Mako says, looking between the two girls, "we're here for you."

"We know," Asami says, smiling and squeezing his hand. "We appreciate it."

Korra starts to apologize again, but Bolin holds up a hand and cuts her off. "No, ma'am, no apologies allowed. We are here to support you, because we _want_ to." Korra smiles feebly and hugs him again.

"Pema and I sleep in here," Tenzin says, pointing out the largest bedroom. "Please let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Asami says, bowing slightly.

"Yeah. Thanks—for everything," Korra adds, feeling inadequate.

A female acolyte brings them some pajamas and and toiletries, and escorts the girls to a room in the women's dormitory. Police officers guard the doorway, and more patrol the beach and the windows and doors outside. Korra wonders if they are more concerned with protecting her from the Equalists or making sure she does not leave.

"This is kind of like old times," Asami points out as they change into the borrowed pajamas. "Remember those sleepovers we had?"

"Yeah. Those were fun nights." They used to talk about serious things, like parents and growing up and finding their place in the world. At that time, those matters all seemed very serious, but looking back, they seem simplistic, so hopeful and full of possibility.

Asami finds a hairbrush in the toiletries and begins brushing her hair. "Everyone here is so nice. Especially the family."

"I guess this is what a normal family's like." It seems an ironic thing to say, since Tenzin's may be one of the least typical families in the world.

"Yeah. None of us have had that since we were little."

"It feels too normal after all this crazy stuff. Almost too nice … like a vacation, or an award. It feels too good to be true."

Asami stops brushing her hair and looks at her friend. "Do you not trust them?"

"No, I do. At least, I trust Tenzin and his family. What I don't trust is how peaceful this place seems to be. … Or maybe it's more fear of that peace ending." Korra sits down on one of the beds. The mattress is harder than she expected, but she has slept on harder ground while camping. She feels exhausted, but also far too awake to sleep peacefully. "What do you suppose will happen now?"

Asami blows out the lamp and gets into the other bed. "I don't know. I guess it depends on who makes the first move—the Equalists or the city."

"Yeah. They'll both be itching to take action."

"What do you think our dads are doing?"

"Probably the same thing we are: hiding and figuring out what to do."

"Wake me up if you want to talk."

"Thanks," Korra says, but she knows she will not take up this offer. Asami is a great person to talk to about sports, technology, relationships, morals, or ethics, but she does not know what it means to be a bender, or a sister. Though grateful for her friend's presence and good intentions, Korra wishes she had someone who could empathize rather than sympathize with her.

She wants her parents, more than ever—but even if that wish were immediately granted, there would be too many issues to deal with before she could open up to them.

She wants Noatak—she cannot remember the last words she spoke to him, though she remembers his: _"I know you'll do what's right."_

She wants one of her past lives to help her, because they are the only ones who can truly understand her situation, the only ones who have ever wielded the kind of power she showed tonight. She waits and hopes for Aang or any past Avatar to come, in consciousness or sleep. She feels like a child willing her imaginary friend to appear.

No one comes.

* * *

Since knowledge of the entrances to the underground tunnels has now been compromised, Amon orders the Equalists to seal off the most important locations with platinum and evacuate the other cells and passageways.

Everyone he sees is afraid, and with good reason. They know him to be one of the most dangerous people in the world, and tonight he has good reason to be angry. Their organization has suffered what pro-bending fans would call a metaphorical knockout: he lost one of the best chi-blockers; his Lieutenant and two teams of high-ranking chi-blockers failed to carry out their mission; and the Avatar returned, posing the greatest obstacle yet.

He listens to the mission reports of the Equalists who were sent to the Arena and those who chased the targets through the streets. The only silver lining is that none of them were caught by police or other enemies. But rumors stir among the soldiers as they compare their experiences, trying to piece together the story. Was the rogue chi-blocker the same girl who bent multiple elements, proving herself to be the Avatar? If so, how did the Avatar end up an Equalist?

Amon decides to share the truth—at least, a great deal of it—with his two closest, most important allies.

The first is the Lieutenant, who, though ashamed and angry with himself after failing his mission, demands to know the exact nature of Korra's relationship to Amon. For the first time in his many years of service, he oversteps the boundaries of leader and follower: after ranting about the unfairness of Amon's favoritism, he almost shouts, "Who and what is she to you? A relative? A _mistress_?"

At that point, after hours of uncertainty and stress bordering on agony, Amon finally snaps. If he had to lash out at anyone, at least it can serve a purpose, putting his subordinate in his place.

He seizes the Lieutenant's collar and pushes him up against the wall; the man is too surprised by this sudden movement to fight back. Amon has seen fear in the Lieutenant before—in fact, it was his fear, as well as his anger and hatred, that made him such a good candidate for assistance and leadership—but this is the first time it has been directed at his leader. Amon hisses the words quietly: "She is my adopted daughter." With that he releases the Lieutenant, who stares stupidly, openly aghast.

Amon gives the briefest synopsis of the story of his shared life with Korra, and tells the Lieutenant, in no uncertain terms, that speculation among the Equalists will not be tolerated, and their leader's methods are not to be questioned except for reasonable clarification. The Lieutenant returns to his ingratiating obedience and dependable leadership.

"You understand, now, why I instructed you not to engage them unless they attacked first."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant answers, meek and sullen.

The eyes behind the mask bore into him. "This is not a merely matter of personal affection, however good a reason that may be. The death of the Avatar could jeopardize the long-term success of our revolution. For that reason, it is imperative that she stay alive."

"Understood, sir."

They join a few other top officers to listen to the radio news reports on the day's events. So far the police have not made any official statements, but it will not be long before they do. In the meantime, reporters interview eyewitnesses.

When the program finally ends, the Lieutenant switches it off and asks the question that is on every Equalist's mind: "Amon, how do you want to handle this?"

Amon stands and turns away, facing the posters on the wall: the map of Republic City, the mecha tank schematics. These used to represent all that he had to gain. Now he has much more to gain.

"If Korra has truly switched sides and shifted her loyalties to the council, she will tell them as much as she knows. Perhaps, by now, she already has. Fortunately, she was never well informed about the steps we planned to take. She only knew that the revolution was months away from completion." He turns to face the Lieutenant. "We will have to accelerate our plans in order to preserve any element of surprise."

The Lieutenant nods. This will mean more work for an already thinly stretched force, but the Equalists are nothing if not efficient.

Someone knocks at the door of the meeting room. "Enter," Amon says.

The newcomer opens the door slowly. "You wanted to see me, Amon?" Hiroshi Sato steps in tentatively. His skin almost matches the ashy streaks of gray in his beard.

"Mr. Sato. Yes. Come in. The rest of you, leave us."

Hiroshi steps aside so the others can leave. "What has happened to my daughter?"

"That is exactly what we need to discuss." Amon looks pointedly at the one remaining officer. "Lieutenant, you are excused."

The Lieutenant does not like to be excluded—it happens so rarely these days. He casts Hiroshi an annoyed, resentful glance before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

The two men look at each other for a moment. Then Amon says, "Lock the door." Hiroshi obeys without asking why. Once there is no chance of a surprise entrance, Amon says, "I suppose, in your case, there's no longer any need for this." He pulls his hood down, unties the string behind his head, and lowers the mask from his face.

It is the same face that looked on Hiroshi with sympathy while their daughters learned how to defend themselves.

Hiroshi steps backwards on unsteady legs, his intelligent mind staggering as it puts together the pieces. "All this time," Hiroshi rasps, incredulous at his own blindness.

"I apologize for my duplicity, but it was a necessary precaution. I had to stay hidden in plain sight so I could give Korra a normal life. Until now, no one has ever known any connection between Amon and Noatak." He places the mask carefully on the table and looks at his ally. "Hiroshi Sato, you and Avatar Korra are the only ones who know both of my identities. She can tell our enemies what she knows about me, but all they have is her word, which I can easily deny. It is now more vital than ever that I not be found."

"I would _never_ betray you," Hiroshi swears.

"Not even if they threatened your daughter?"

He freezes at this. Amon knows that Hiroshi draws his strength from his hatred of benders and love for his daughter. But those are also his greatest weaknesses, and Amon knows how to make use of both. "I do not imagine they will harm her if she complies with their wishes. But if she refuses to cooperate, or if they want to coerce you, a tyrant like Tarrlok wouldn't mind employing unusual punishment on you or her."

Hiroshi's voice is tight, almost stuttering as he tries to maintain his composure. "Korra w-wouldn't allow that, w-would she?"

"Korra may be the Avatar, but she is their prisoner as much as Asami. The only difference is that Korra is, to them, a more powerful Pai Sho tile. As a non-bender with no political position, Asami is more expendable … unless they decide to exploit your financial wealth. They're certainly not above blackmail." Amon leans on the table. "I do not doubt your loyalty, Hiroshi, but personal attachments can cloud the best of intentions. So understand this: If you want Asami back safely, you'll have to keep my secret and cooperate with my instructions."

Hiroshi nods, tight-lipped.

"Obviously, you cannot return to your home in the present climate. You will have to stay in hiding until we take control of the city."

"If you'll allow me to stay at the mountain airbase, I can continue work on the aircraft."

Amon nods. "We will meet tomorrow to arrange our acceleration to the final stage of the revolution. We will need your vehicles much sooner than we originally planned."

Hiroshi wrings his hands. "Asami … won't be held responsible, will she? For what happened tonight?"

"We do not know whose idea their escapade was."

"But if she's found—guilty, she won't be punished, will she?"

Amon clasps his hands behind his back and turns to face the wall of posters. "I feel your grief, Hiroshi. Our daughters' actions, while a blow to all Equalists, are a greater blow against you and I. Their fate after the revolution depends on what happens between now and the time we reclaim them. They will receive a fair trial. If they are truly penitent, and reaffirm their loyalty to us, they may be fully exonerated. But if they continue to act against us, and refuse to renounce their opposition to the revolution, they will be dealt with according to their actions." He turns slightly to look over his shoulder at Hiroshi. "I have to be just, but I'm willing to show mercy to those who seek it."

Hiroshi nods in acceptance if not understanding. As they bid each other goodnight, Amon wonders whose burden is greater: having to make decisions about rescuing his daughter, or being powerless and having to wait for instructions before doing anything.

Alone at last, Amon unbuttons his uniform enough to open the inner pocket and touch Korra's necklace. He traces the character for _daughter_ with his thumb, then closes a fist around the gift. He hopes Korra understands what she has done, what she has communicated to him by rejecting everything he gave her, turning her back on everything he taught her.

He cannot deny his anger; yet he cannot fully blame Korra. He blames Asami to some extent, and Hiroshi for allowing Asami to be so badly influenced by the culture and acquaintance of benders; but most of all he blames those two pro-benders Korra thinks are her friends. They made them think bending abilities were desirable and worth keeping, and eventually turned the girls against their fathers and their people.

They will pay for what they have done, Amon resolves. He will get Korra back and make her see the truth. Then he will return her necklace, as proof that even when she forsook him, he did not give up on her.

"I'll find you, Korra. You can't hide forever. I will find you and convince you of the truth, even if it is the last thing I do."

* * *

Author's Notes

Music: "Farewell, Good Angel" from _Jane Eyre: The Musical_

I would really appreciate feedback on this chapter. It took a lot of revising, and I'm still not sure if it has too much or too little content (I took out more dialogue with the airbender kids, which could have caused more lightheartedness or more tension). I could split this into two chapters, only that would shift the theme a bit. I don't know if the interrogation is realistic, so if any of you have experience with or knowledge of police work, I would greatly appreciate your input.

I have some exciting news about my work: A short _Voltron: Legendary Defender_ story I wrote (not yet posted on this account) was accepted for the first issue of a fan-made Shallura (Shiro/Allura) magazine called _Stars Aligned_. The magazine is now available for preorder; you can view purchasing options on the Shallurazine Tumblr and place your order on Tictail.

It might be a while before I update this story again, since I'm about to begin classes for my final semester of college. Please review and pray for me. Also pray for the United States, especially those in Washington, D.C. I'm worried about so many passionate people gathering to support or protest the inauguration. Please pray that everyone will be safe—police, civilians, and elected officials—no matter who they are or what they believe. Thanks and God bless!


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